


Maybe I'm A Liar (But For Tonight I Want To Fall In Love)

by usernicole



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1947642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis really has to do something about the crush he has on his fiance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losingwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingwords/gifts).



> kind of paranoid to write the notes haha MUCH THANKS to everyone who helped me out, including tumblr user Q who dealt with my stress about finishing and helped me sort out my characterization, andP who read it over really quickly and told me what i should fix up last minute. ill properly credit and link u guys once I can!!
> 
> this story plays fast and loose with canon, basically i took a bunch of facts about these people's lives and picked and chose which were relevant to the story, so the timelines and ages of the characters don't really match up haha 
> 
> my prompt was this!:
> 
> Arranged marriage!AU. One ideia is that Nick has a huge debt and gets married to Louis - a rebellious teenager from a rich-as-fuck family who wants to make a honest man out of him through marriage. BUT THAT'S JUST AN IDEA. If you have another idea that involves arranged marriages, go ahead.
> 
> and i feel bad bc i feel this sort of ended up being accidental pretend boyfriends fic?? i hope that's not too much of a stretch!! if it is i'm so sorry just contact me when i'm revealed and i will give u ur money back
> 
> i should also mention that this is not britpicked at all, so any americanisms are my fault and yes, i do feel bad about it
> 
> thanks for reading!

Here's what starts the whole damn thing.

Louis is driving. Where he's driving is irrelevant, because he doesn't even fucking know. What he's driving is his dad's Lotus Elise.

In the passenger seat is Louis' phone with Harry Styles on speaker, worriedly asking Louis “Where are you again?” and “Lou, have you had something to drink?”

Louis has had something to drink. He's had many somethings to drink, but like his destination, that's irrelevant. “Lots of somethings,” he tells Harry. “Lots.”

In the background he can hear Liam, Harry's personal bodyguard, talking guiltily on the phone. Most likely to Louis' handlers. Louis frowns.

“Is Liam snitching?” Louis asks, pressing his foot further on the gas.

“Course not,” Harry lies. “Lou, Louis, where are you?”

Louis looks around and sees nothing but farmland. Some sheep. “Who knows,” he says, “who the fuck knows?”

Louis can picture the frown on Harry's lovely face, brow furrowed and hair all over the place like a dandelion. “Louis, I think you should pull over. Stop driving and then me and Liam can come get you.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that, dear Harold,” Louis says solemnly, then picks up the bottle of _something_ he has been holding between his thighs. He takes a swig and tilts his head to the side, considering. “Nope, can't do it.” Harry makes a frustrated noise.

“Why not?” he says, and Louis is thrown back to their childhood days, and Harry stomping his foot at their nannies when they were told they weren't allowed to do whatever stupid thing they wanted to do. “But _why_ ,” he would whine, big green eyes sparkling, and, eventually, he would end up getting whatever he wanted while Louis sat alone.

“Don't want to,” Louis says, shrugging even though Harry can't see it. The leather of the steering wheel feels good under his hands as he adjusts his grip. “I wanna see how fast this baby can go.”

“You don't even _like_ sports cars,” Harry's starting to sound desperate. “Lou, listen, you’re going to crash. You've been drinking--”

“I'm not gonna _crash_ ,” Louis scoffs. “There’s nothing out here to crash _into_.”

“Louis, your dad is having a panic attack,” Harry says. “Just stop the car. We promise you won't be in trouble. It'll just be me and Liam, we'll come pick you up. Promise.”

Louis laughs. “Right, a panic attack. Maybe panic about the idea of anything happening to this piece of junk.” He scoffs again. “ _In trouble_. I'm nearly twenty.”

“Louis, just please stop the car. Let me come get you. Please, Lou.”

Louis huffs, “Listen, Harry, while I appreciate the concern, I'd really rather you just fuck off–”

It's at that moment that two things happen. First, the open bottle in Louis' lap tips over, spilling the liquid all over the car and Louis' lap. Second, a sheep, black as anything – and the irony isn't lost on Louis – walks leisurely into the middle of the dirt road Louis is careening down.

Louis immediately ignores the bottle in favor of swerving out of the way of the animal, driving headlong into a field. He loses control of the car, steering wheel twisting crazily under his palms, and he can't remember which way he's supposed to turn the car when it's out of control like this. It's this moment when his bottle, floating in the temporary zero gravity of Louis' dad's sportscar, flies up out of nowhere and clocks Louis in the head.

From then on, everything goes black, and the car continues moving until it crashes into a giant bale of hay sitting innocently in the middle of the field.

Some time later, Louis wakes up with an unbearable headache and his father's PR agent standing in the corner of what must be a hospital room talking rapidly into his cell phone

He shuts his eyes and groans before opening them again and folding his hands over his stomach. He looks straight up at the ceiling, inwardly curses his father, and says “Let's get this over with.”

 

*

 

They say fortune favors the bold, and Nick thinks this is true, if Louis Austin is any indication.

He's not sure how his Friday night became _this_. All he had wanted was to go home, eat what junk he had lying around, and watch Breaking Bad. Instead, he's driven three hours in pouring rain to a hospital in the middle of nowhere to meet the boy he's meant to marry.

“Louis, would you _please_ sit down?” comes a small voice from the other side of the small hospital room. A small man in an ugly brown sweatervest stands there, wringing his hands. Louis is standing on top of his bed, facing the man. His hospital gown is backless. He is, essentially, showing anyone who walks passed his bare ass. Somewhere in the recesses of his reptilian hindbrain, Nick thinks that this whole marriage deal may work out after all.

“Um,” Nick says, knocking gently on the doorframe and still half-focused on Louis' unmentionables. Louis turns around abruptly, hands on his hips, and Nick is thrown. Nick follows the tabloids, really sort of has to, working a job like his, so he’s seen pictures of Louis Austin before. THe over-saturated paparazzi pictures don’t seem to do him justice. Even banged and bruised as he is, Nick thinks he looks pretty damn majestic. He’s _pretty_ , small and compact. And now, in the absence of his ass, Nick can’t tear his eyes away from his bare legs.  “I, uh,” Nick continues eloquently, “is – uh – I'm looking for Pete Grimshaw?”

“Nicholas!” the small man exclaims, sounding relieved. Nick winces and Louis' glare, impossibly, darkens. “Your father will be here shortly. In the meantime, I'm Marcel, Mr. Austin's public relations agent. Louis, this is Nicholas Grimshaw, he's agreed to help us with our...dilemma.”

“Um, I actually prefer Grimmy, or Nick, thanks,” Nick interjects. He walks up to Louis where he's still standing and extends a hand. “It's nice to meet you?”

It comes out like a question and Louis doesn't say anything in response, he doesn't even take Nick's hand. Nick tries to play it off by moving to run the extended hand through his hair but the damage is done. “This guy?” Louis says meanly, eyeing Nick up and down. He looks passed Nick to Marcel. “Really?”

Nick grits his teeth, but before he can say anything his dad is walking in, slightly damp from the rain. “So sorry I'm late,” he says. He reaches and shakes Louis' hand, and Nick bristles, the fact that Louis actually takes it not going unnoticed.. “Pete Grimshaw. How are you doing? Were you seriously hurt?”

He seems completely unfazed by Louis' blatant disregard for hospital protocol. Louis shifts uncomfortably, his gown crinkling. “I'm uh, fine, sir. Thanks. Just hit my head a little.”

“Wonderful,” Pete says, though it kind of really isn't. He turns to greet Nick. “And you, son?”

Nick coughs. “Fine, thanks,” he says. “Just left the studio when you called.” He gives his dad an awkward hug and Louis makes a face at them that Nick tries to ignore.

“I trust you met my son?” Pete says, clapping Nick on the shoulder. “Grimmy's landed himself his own radio show on Radio 1. Awful music, but he does alright.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Thanks, dad,” he drawls, and then they're interrupted by a polite clearing of the throat from Marcel.

“Right,” he says, clapping his hands together. “ _So_ lovely to meet each other, but we should really get down to business.”

“Right,” Louis says, clapping _his_ hands and speaking in a high(er) pitched voice, clearly mocking Marcel. “We should get down to business.” He flops down onto his bed, bouncing a little. He winces but no one seems to notice aside from Nick. Good, Nick thinks, that's what he gets for jumping around like a maniac when he's meant to be resting. “I'm not marrying him. I'm not marrying anyone, and anyway, he has stupid hair.” Pete snorts and Nick gasps, scandalized.

“Excuse me,” Nick says, crossing his arms, “and what would you call the greasy mop on your head? High fashion?”

Marcel interrupts again. “Nicholas, Louis, listen – “

“No,” Louis says, eyes steely, “I'm not going to let my dad _whore_ me out to some random arsehole like this is the bloody 1800s. I'm pretty sure that's _illegal_ –“

“Of course, everything would be completely voluntary,” Marcel squeaks, tugging at his collar.

“How the _hell_ would something like this be considered voluntary?” Louis shrieks. Nick’s dad winces and Nick just rolls his eyes..

“Look, we're in a _hospital_ ,” Nick starts, pulling up a couple chairs for him and his dad. “Could you _please_ control yourself?” Nick's _never_ reprimanded someone on their noise levels before. _He's_ usually the one being reprimanded. Something about Louis, though, just annoys the _shit_ out of him. “Can we just be rational about this?”

“Oh, come off it,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “You cant tell me you _approve_ of this plan? You're just going to let your father pimp you out?” He narrows his eyes. “Wait, what _are_ you getting out of this? Are you some sort of pervert? You're on the radio, is this a ploy to get famous or something?” He looks to Marcel, “Are you trying to marry me off to some _famewhore –“_

“Excuse me, Louis,” Pete says, before Louis can go off again. “I know this may seem a bit...off-color--”

“ _That's_ a word for it,” Louis mutters.

“Don't speak to my dad like that, asshole,” Nick snaps back, unable to help it. Pete gives him a look that he ignores.

“This isn't the most conventional of arrangements, no, but no one is forcing you to do anything you don't want to do. It wouldn't be a _real_ marriage, just a bit of a stunt, for publicity's sake. It's,” Nick's dad sighs, “difficult enough for me to have my son doing this.” He looks pained and Nick frowns harder, hating all of this. “We could really use you and your father's help, and Grimmy's already agreed to do it, so it all rests on you.”

The tips of Pete's ears are pink and Nick feels guilt churn in his belly. The whole situation had been explained on the drive over, his father's weary voice echoing in the silence of Nick's car. The business is in danger of going under, and when Louis' dad, and old friend of Pete's from uni, had called to ask for a favor, Pete couldn't waste the opportunity.

Nick had no clue his family were going through this. Since first moving to London, both Nick and his family had adopted a policy of mutual avoidance. Nick loved his family, but he was also very different from them. The Grimshaws were all loud and boisterous, traits Nick had inherited in leaps and bounds, but they were also very conservative. And Nick was very gay and very opposed to the idea of just working for his father's company for the rest of his life, the way his siblings had. From an early age, Nick's family hadn't really known what to do with him. So they took his subsequent dropping out of university and spontaneous move to London as the “back off” he had intended it to be and left him alone.

He still made a point to call his mom regularly, and he skyped with his sister and niece whenever he could. But holidays were always awkward, and as Nick felt himself finally come into his own and make a life for himself in London, he could also feel the gap between him and his family widening with no discernible way of fixing it.

“Well,” he'd said in the car after his father finished speaking. “At least you've found _some_ use for my flaming homosexuality.” To which his father had replied with a scoff.

“They don't just want you because you're gay, that’s just bonus. They want you for the full page spreads in _Heat_ magazine.”

But now it's blatantly obvious that Pete really does feel awful about the whole thing, which just makes Nick feel even guiltier. He doesn't particularly fancy the idea of spending time with – with _living_ with – this boy he had just met for the first time. But, if he can take a bit of the load off of his dad's shoulders, he'll do anything he can, it’s the least he can do.

Louis' edges are still sharp, hackles still raised, but he seems to have softened a little at Pete's request. “I'm sorry about your situation,” he says hesitantly, “but I can't just let you and my father...control me like this. Would you?” He gestures to Nick. “Do you _really_ want to do this to your son? I get that you're desperate, but _jesus christ_.” He runs a hand through his floppy hair, biting his lip. “I can't do it. The answer is no.”

Pete's shoulders slump, and Nick sighs. He doesn't know what to do, already trying to think of what else he can do to help his father, since this plan is apparently falling through. He feels guilty enough as it is, not knowing. Maybe he could move back home for a little bit.

“Um, excuse me?” Marcel says. He's staring down at his phone and looking increasingly nervous. “But before you make any final decisions, Mr. Austin's just sent me an email.” He looks up at them, eyes wide. Louis narrows his eyes.

“Well, what does it say?” he says impatiently, and Marcel gulps.

“Mr. Austin wants me to inform you that, should you refuse to take part in this arrangement, you will be cut off from any money you receive from him, including your monthly stipend.” Louis freezes. “And,” Marcel looks as though he's going to cry he's so nervous, “if your misbehavior continues, you'll be removed from his will and disowned from the family.”

Nick fidgets, looking over at his father, who has gotten, impossibly, paler. Louis looks stricken. Nick hadn't really taken him for someone who would be so preoccupied with how much money he has, but he guesses he can't blame him. The whole thing sucks, no one should be treated like that.

“He's, uh, already planned to withhold this month's payment as punishment,” Marcel continues, and Louis straightens, fierce look back on his face.

“He can't do that,” he says angrily. He turns back to Nick and Pete, still sitting uncomfortably. He eyes Nick up and down, and Nick squirms under his scrutiny. “Fine,” he says finally. “I'll fucking do it. Tell him I hope he's happy.” He looks away from Nick and down into his lap.

Marcel sighs in relief. “Lovely,” he says. “ _Now_ we can talk business.”

What follows is an extremely elaborate plan made to convince the world of Nick and Louis' relationship. Nick had been wondering what a weenie like Marcel had been doing as the publicist of someone like Louis' father, but he proves himself to be almost scarily efficient.

There was so much information that it was almost too much for Nick to take in. To everyone else, with Marcel's help, Nick and Louis will be undergoing the ultimate whirlwind romance.

“Starting tonight,” Marcel says excitedly. Nick thinks he's taking way too much delight in this. “You both will admit to talking before now, but Louis' accident will be what takes your relationship to the next level. I've already arranged for someone to take a picture of you leaving the hospital, Nicholas.”

“Me and him have never even _met_ before today,” Louis says disbelievingly. “How do you expect people to believe that we're close enough to start a relationship?”

“Yeah,” Nick says, “and I'm not exactly a private person. My friends won't believe I've been talking to someone I'm this serious about without mentioning it.”

“You two go to plenty of parties,” Marcel says matter-of-factly, “it's not _too_ much of a stretch to say that you met at one of those and have been texting ever since. As for you, Nicholas, just tell your friends that you and Louis are different and you wanted to keep your relationship private. We're lucky to live in a time where it's possible to begin relationships without even seeing each other that much, or at all.” He beams at them, obviously proud of himself. Nick's not too happy about the idea of lying to his friends, but he nods. Louis just scoffs and looks away.

From then it's simple. For the next couple months, they will make several appearances together on “dates.” Just a few opportunities to show the world they're serious about each other, and then Nick would move in with Louis at Mr. Austin's estate –

“Grimmy's just moved into his first house by himself,” Pete interjects. “Couldn't Louis move in with him, instead? For conveniences sake?” Marcel hmm's and takes down a note on the notebook he'd pulled out of a briefcase he'd apparently had the entire time.

“I don't see why not,” Marcel says. “I'll ask Mr. Austin.” Nick almost wants to object. He _loves_ his new house, and thinking about Louis the human disaster infiltrating his tastefully furnished and cozy home sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn't want to complicate things, however, and he doesn't think he could handle the pressure of living with someone as important as Louis' father. He'd probably be too scared to even _breathe_ in the man's presence. He goes back to listening attentively.

Once Louis and Nick have lived together for a few months, they'll be married. “For realism,” Marcel explains. “No one will expect you to get married right after moving in together, right?”

“No one will expect me to marry this prick at all,” Louis mutters, and Nick barely holds back from kicking him in the shin. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that Louis is in the hospital, and bodily harm isn't really the most ideal way to begin a relationship.

“More like no one will be expecting _me_ to be marrying someone so irrelevant,” Nick mutters in response, and his dad elbows him in the side.

The wedding, of course, will be planned by Marcel, and funded by Louis' father.

“You mean we won't even have a say in our own wedding?” Nick protests, looking incredulously at his dad, who shrugs guiltily.

“It's not even a _real_ wedding,” Louis sneers. “What, disappointed you won't get to wear the big princess gown like you've always wanted?”

“Oh, shut up,” Nick snaps, tamping down the tiny part of him that's always dreamed of a really nice, obnoxious wedding for himself. He can't help being a bit of a romantic at heart, it's just a little disappointing that his first wedding will have nothing to do with him, is all.

After the wedding, they'll be obligated to stay together for six more months, or, if Louis still acts like an asshole, even longer. Then they can be amicably annulled and move on with their lives. All in all, Nick is being asked to give up just a little over a year to be a live-in babysitter to a whiny rich kid.

“Everything should go smoothly if you both cooperate,” Marcel finishes. “But I should warn you, if you don't act accordingly, Mr. Austin _will_ rescind all agreements made on both your behalfs. Nick gulps and looks over to his father, who has been sitting mostly silent for Marcel's entire spiel.

“I'll do my best,” Nick says, and Louis nods reluctantly, not looking at any of them. After that, Marcel moves to pull a pair of contracts out of his briefcase for the two of them to sign.

Nick takes a deep breath before signing his, looking over to Louis, who signs his quickly and sloppily before pushing it away with disgust. It feels like Nick is already marrying him, a year feeling like forever. He thinks about his dad and how painful this seems to be for him, to ask Nick's help, and tells himself that he can deal with an annoying asshole for a year. He needs to do this for his family. It's worth it. At least he's fit.

Before he realizes it, the papers are signed and Marcel is happily tucking them back into his briefcase. Nick has a brand spanking new fiance.

It's not long after that that they leave, with instructions for Nick to exit after his dad, allowing the hired photographer to get the best shot possible. Right before he leaves, though, Pete stops him.

“I just want to say again, son, that I'm very proud of you for what you're doing for us.” He pulls Nick in for a hug. “I'm very thankful.”

Nick nods, not quite sure what to say. There's a lump in his throat and he doesn't know what it's doing there. “I feel as though I've just sold my soul,” he blurts out, “like I've just made a deal with the devil.”

Pete shakes his head and chuckles, moving back to clap Nick on the shoulder. “That's just marriage, Grim,” he says kindly, “you get used to it.”

 

*

 

Their first date begins as nothing short of a disaster.

It's a nice restaurant, one that Nick's been wanting to try for ages, but could never get a reservation. Apparently fake-dating the son of the richest man in England has its perks. He's not really able to enjoy it, though, as they've been sat right at the front window and there's a veritable crowd of paparazzi standing just on the other side.

Nick's not _unused_ to paparazzi, he has a few friends they like to follow around on a night out. He's never really been able to say he was their focus, though. He's usually just the one stumbling about in the background, always looking heinously drunk. So he's feeling a little exposed, and Louis _won't fucking say anything_.

“So, uh, been here before?” Nick asks. Louis ignores him in favor of studying the menu intently. Nick coughs, trying not to look out the window at the group of people watching their every move. “I'll take that as a no, then,” he says, picking up his own menu. “I hear everything here is amazing. Fucking difficult to get into, though.” He pauses. “I guess, uh, not for you though.”

Louis just shrugs, still focused on his menu, and Nick wants to tear all of his hair out. He calls a waiter over to their table. “Is there anything that can be done about,” he waves a hand in the direction of the people outside and hears a faint sea of clicks, “all that?”

The waiter looks apologetic, but there's nothing to be done, and all the other tables are filled. Nick sighs and thanks him, resigned to having the worst possible night ever.

“Didn't think you would mind,” Louis says, looking bored as he sets the menu aside. Nick gives him a questioning look. “You're always in the papers with your posh friends,” Louis clarifies. “I looked you up, figured you'd like the attention.”

“My _posh_ friends?” Nick sputters, “ _I'm_ always in the papers? Louis, yesterday there was a full spread in _The Mirror_ about what shampoo you use. Your best friend is _Harry Styles,_ isn't he like? A duke?”

“It's not like I want all that,” Louis says, gritting his teeth. “I don't ask for all that.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Is this really what we're doing? You think I only go out with the people I go out with because they're famous? Because I get that all the time and really, love, it's just boring.”

“I call it like I see it,” Louis sniffs and moves to grab his menu again. Nick stops him before he can, reaching over to grab his hand. Louis' cheeks go a little pink and Nick hears a fluttering of tiny clicks from outside.

“No,” Nick says, “you're not just going to ignore me the whole night. You're not going to mess this up for my dad. We're supposed to look like we _like_ each other.” Louis pulls his hand away and glares at Nick.

“If you think for one minute that I'm just going to sit and let you and my dad fucking parade me around playing happy couple, you've got another thing coming.”

“Whatever,” Nick says, Louis is the single most annoying person on the planet, “but, like, you're stuck with me for an entire fucking year, so we might as well get to know each other.” He sits back and waves. “Hiya, I'm Nick, or Grimmy. Whichever. I like music and cocktails and long walks on the beach. How about you?”

Louis, for a glorious moment, has the stupidest expression of disbelief on his face. Then he snorts and smiles the tiniest bit. “You're a fucking idiot,” he says, and then the waiter is back to take their order.

After that, Louis is no longer quiet. Instead, he chooses to go out of his way to insult and nag Nick about everything, from his order to how he holds his fork. It's only slightly better than when he wasn't talking at all, if only because Nick gives as good as he gets and insults him right back. This seems to annoy and delight Louis in equal measure.

“So, you're dad's paying for this, right?” Nick asks, perusing the dessert menu.

“Yup,” Louis says, he's been systematically destroying the rose that had been sitting in the middle of the table. He pulls the petals apart and drops the pieces in Nick's drink.

“Oh good,” Nick says, “because I want dessert.” Louis barks out a laugh.

“Is that really how you act when your date tells you they're paying?”

“My date isn't paying, his dad is,” Nick replies. “If I get the chocolate cake would you have some?” Louis wrinkles his nose and Nick shrugs. “More for me. And anyway, this isn't actually the best date I've ever been on. I deserve cake, If I wasn't supposed to be madly in love with you I would have made fun of you on the radio and never called you again.”

“As if you've been any better,” Louis says, dumping the last of the poor flower in Nick's wine. “Dead boring, you.”

“I'm plenty interesting,” Nick says indignantly. “At least I've been _trying._ ”

“I've been trying,” Louis responds, and Nick raises his eyebrows. “Trying not to fall asleep from how dull you are.” Nick makes a frustrated noise, burying his face in his hands 

“You're the most irritating creature on the planet,” he says into his palms and Louis laughs, kicking out under the table to hit Nick in the shin. Nick raises his head to scowl at Louis, who looks smug for no goddamn reason 

As soon as the dinner is over they're meant to leave giving off the impression that they had an amazing time, and Nick's surprised to note that it actually didn't end up half bad. He hadn't really succeeded in getting Louis to _like_ him, per se, but once he got talking it was a lot better. It's not every day Nick is able to be as bitchy as he secretly is, and Louis definitely brings it out of him. He's annoying and fidgety and seems to be going out of his way to push all of Nick's buttons, and when Nick retaliates he just comes back even more obnoxiously. It's the most fun Nick's had in _ages_  

Despite the whole stupid situation, the paps, and Louis' initial hostility, Nick enjoys himself and secretly admits that it might have been a bit of a lie when he told Louis the date was terrible. But at the same time he knows he can't really afford to think that way with Louis, who _actually_ hates him and is only spending time with him because he's being forced. It's good that Nick can find it in himself to enjoy Louis' company. It would make the next year _so much_ easie, though,r if he managed to get Louis enjoy his. Imagining anything beyond that is madness.

And then Nick accidentally drops a huge blob of chocolate icing on his nice dress shirt and Louis loses it, laughing so hard he curls over the table. Nick watches him with his crinkly eyes and raspy guffaws, spraying crumbs of the cake he stole from Nick all over the table, and Nick thinks “Fuck.”

 

*

 

Louis lets out a long frustrated noise, falling backwards where he's sitting on the floor of Harry's living room and curling up into a ball.

“What is it this time, Tommo?” Liam sighs good-naturedly from where he sits on the couch reading a magazine. Louis sees himself on the cover of it and makes a disgusted noise. He rolls until he's under Harry's coffee table, hidden from the world. Or just Liam.

“Use your words, Lou,” Harry says, walking in while carrying three mugs of tea in his giant monster hands. He stops. “Lou?”

“He's under the table,” Liam says. Louis sticks an arm out and waves it frantically until Harry bends down and sets his tea where he can reach it. He pulls the cup quickly back into his lair.

Harry just shrugs and doesn't question it, and that's why he's Louis' best friend in the world. Even though right after that Louis has to deal with Harry and Liam staring deeply into each others eyes as Harry passes Liam his tea, like he's giving Liam a diamond ring and not a snoopy mug filled with disgusting sugary tea. Louis takes a sip of his perfect Yorkshire in solidarity before loudly saying “ _Ahem_.”

They snap out of whatever weird daze they were in, cheeks going pink. There's an awkward moment where Harry just shuffles in place before sitting next to Liam on the couch.

“Wait, did you just _say_ 'ahem'?” Liam asks. Louis ignores him.

“If you two would stop with the _Titanic_ act for one fucking second, we can focus on _important things_ ,” He sticks his head out from under the table to glare at them. They've got this whole will-they won't-they epic romance going on and honestly, it just pisses Louis off. Liam’s been working as Harry’s bodyguard for over a year, and everyone is convinced they’re soulmates, but Liam refuses to make a move while he’s still on Harry’s family’s payroll, and Harry thinks that Liam is straight. It’s the saddest thing Louis’s ever seen. They spend their days doing absolutely everything together, and Harry spends his nights complaining about it on the phone to Louis.

“I have to go out with _Grimshaw_ again tonight.”

Harry sighs and Liam pats him on the head sympathetically. “It's only a few hours,” Liam says, trying to be helpful and absolutely not helping at all.

“Only a few hours until it's the _rest of my life_!” Louis yells indignantly, flailing a little and cursing when he hits the table 

“A year,” Liam corrects, taking a sip of his tea and Louis scoffs.

“I'm young and virile, a year is _ages_.” He rolls over so his face is dug into the carpet. “I'm too young to be married to some old asshole anyway,” he says, but it comes out muffled. They ignore him anyway.

“But you look like you have so much fun when you're out with him!” Harry says. He grabs the magazine from Liam's lap and flips it until he finds a picture of Louis laughing at some fancy restaurant. “See! You're laughing!”

Louis doesn't even bother looking up. “Laughing _at him_ , most likely.” He rolls over to stick his head out again, glaring at Harry. “It probably wouldn't be as bad if you let me pregame. Or drink _at all_.”

Harry scowls. “No, Louis, we agreed on this. No drinking, at least not for a while. You scared the shit out of me.” He's giving Louis _eyes_ , the big watery Bambi eyes that made Louis agree to stop drinking for at least a month after he ended up in the hospital. Liam puts an arm over his shoulder, glaring at Louis. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best decision to call Harry when he was taking a drunken joyride in the middle of nowhere, but he hadn't exactly been in the right state of mind that night. Honestly, get drunk and make a stupid decision one or five times and you apparently have a drinking problem.

He scoots himself out from under the table, only spilling his tea a little. Since their first meeting, Nick and Louis had gone on several dates, several perfectly boring dates planned by his father's publicist. He hadn't _properly_ gone out in weeks, and on top of that he had Harry giving him _eyes_ whenever he so much as _mentioned_ drinking. He was basically dying, wasting away to nothing, and soon he would be moving in with his _fiance_ and he wouldn't be able to go _anywhere at all._

Louis will admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that Nick isn't as bad as he makes him out to be. Under any other circumstances, Louis might have enjoyed his company. In small doses. He's witty and funny, and hot in a way that Louis doesn't understand, considering he looks sort of like a tall fish.

Unfortunately, however, Louis is being forced to spend time with him, and if there's anything in this world that Louis hates it's being forced to do anything. Especially when he's being forced by his father. So he acts like Nick is the worst, that spending time with him is the absolute least thing he ever wants to do, and he takes it out on Nick.If he's going to be miserable, everyone is.

Also unfortunately, Nick has seemingly developed an immunity to his taunts. He doesn't really bristle as much as he did when they first met. He's adopted a strategy of pretending everything Louis says is absolutely adorable, laughing and cooing at Louis, _especially_ in front of the cameras. He knows what he's doing, Louis can see it in his eyes.

But the point is, once again, that Louis hasn't been out doing anything _actually fun_ in five million years and he's tired of it.

“He really doesn't seem like a bad guy,” Harry says. “I listened to his show, he's really funny.”

“Why would you listen to his show?” Louis says, thoroughly disgusted.

Harry shrugs. “Why wouldn't I want to get to know my best mate's future husband? I was curious.”

“He has good taste in music,” Liam chimes in helpfully. Harry nods and smiles at Liam.

“You two are dead to me. You haven't even met him and you're taking his side over mine.” He sits up suddenly. “Wait. Do you _want_ to meet him?”

Harry's brow furrows. “What?”

“Do you want to meet him tonight? Oh my god,” Louis stands up quickly. “Do you want to meet him _at a club_?”

“Louis, I don't think–“ Liam says, but it's too late. Louis' on a roll.

“It's _perfect._ We can go out together, better than a boring old date anyhow. You can meet him and see just how boring and uninteresting he is. We'll probably get more press from this than from a stupid walk in the park.”

“Aw, a walk in the park sounds nice,” Harry coos. Louis ignores him. He's got his phone out and he's texting frantically.

“Liam, what's that club you always go to? The trashy one?” Liam looks offended.

“Funky Buddha isn't _trashy,”_ he says, indignant. Louis waves him off.

“We're going there. We're doing this.” Louis grins. “I'm going to go get changed. Great idea, Harry, meeting him at a club.” Next thing they know, he's gone, and Liam and Harry are left looking at each other disbelievingly.

“Well shit,” Liam says, and Harry nods in response.

 

*

 

Nick tugs at his collar nervously, looking around the table he had just sat down at and the people occupying it who are staring at him intensely. It's completely silent 

“So,” he says, “how's everyone?” No one responds and Nick fidgets anxiously. When Gillian had called to ask him out to dinner the night before, he hadn't expected the fucking Spanish Inquisition. Sitting around the table at one of Nick's favorite Greek restaurants are basically all of his closest friends. And one of his new producers? He gives Ian a look, to which Ian just shrugs in response. “Is this some sort of...intervention? Because I'm not sure – ”

“When, exactly,” Aimee cuts him off, “were you going to tell us about your new boyfriend?”

“My? Boyfriend?” Nick's whole brain is question marks. Everyone at the table is looking at him pointedly, but, even still, it takes him a good thirty seconds to remember. “Oh! Louis!” he says.

“You'd think,” Henry says, sipping his cocktail and eying Nick dangerously, “that you'd be so kind as to consult your _closest friends_ before you decide to enter a relationship with a teenage socialite. But I had to find out from Sugarscape, Grimmy.” He slams his drink on the table. _“Sugarscape!_ ”

“Why were you – “ Nick sputters. “Uh, what?”

“How did you even meet him?” Collette asks, “He is a _child,_ Grim. A _child_.”

“I, uh,” Nick can't remember the story Marcel gave him detailing him and Louis' first 'meeting'. “He's nineteen?”

“Is this some sort of early mid-life crisis?” Daisy asks, legitimately concerned. “I didn't even know you were looking for a relationship.” Nick wasn't, but he couldn't really say that now could he? Not for the first time, this whole situation with Louis has Nick in over his head.

“Is it drugs?” Collette demands. “Are you with him because he has _drugs,_ Grim? I've seen him in the papers. _Are you jokin'?”_

“Of course not!” Nick says, finally relearning to speak. “I met him at a party ages ago.”

“Which party?” Henry asks, “I don't remember him at any parties we've been to.”

“You, uh, weren't there,” Nick says. “None of you. I went by myself. Work thing.”

“You hate going to parties by yourself,” Aimee says, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, that's why I started talking to Louis when I got there,” Nick replies, starting to get annoyed. “Look, we met at a party, we hit it off, and we've been talking ever since. It's only recently we've started going out. You happy now?” Nick doesn't like lying to his best friends. He looks over at Ian, who hasn't said anything but looks suspicious. Nick gives him a pleading look, but Ian just raises his eyebrows and goes back to staring into his pint. Nick is going to make life _hell_ for him later.

“Well, why didn't you tell us before?” Gillian asks. “You've never even mentioned him, and you're not exactly private about this sort of thing. At least not with us.”

“Louis' different.” And isn't that the understatement of the fucking century, Nick thinks. “He's not like the other guys I've dated, okay? Now can we stop with the interrogation?” He doesn't wait for them to respond, instead flagging down the nearest waiter. “Hello? Sir? Could I possibly get a drink? Something alcoholic?”

“We're only worried, Nick,” Gillian says, putting a hand on his. “You haven't really been talking to any of us about it, and that Austin boy is bad news.”

“He showed up to one of my events once,” Henry says, before lowering his voice. “Drunk as anything. Started a row right away and had to be escorted out. Is that really who you want to be associated with?”

“He's not actually _that_ bad,” Nick says. “He's funny, sort of.”

“Sorry to tell you, babe, but a good boyfriend's got to be a lot more than just funny,” Aimee says, not unkindly.

“We just want to make certain you're happy,” Collette interjects. “That everything is alright.” Nick gulps. Everything's not alright. It's not terrible, but Nick would really appreciate the support of his friends on this. He _really_ hates lying to them, his London family. He knows if they keep on him he's not going to be able to hold out much longer.

“I am,” he says, “happy. I even have a date with him tonight, so if we could please change the subject and not waste the time we have here?”

“At least let us meet him soon,” Henry says. “Let us decide whether he's worthy of our Grim.” The rest of them agree and Nick feels relieved that they're finally dropping it.

“Sure, yeah,” he says. “I'll talk to him about it.”

 “I will tell you one thing, though,” Daisy says and Nick tenses. She grins sweetly at him. “He's right fit, you cougar. How'd you land that one?” The whole table laughs at that, and Nick privately thinks that he's glad to have such good friends.

 Later on, after Nick's ate his entire weight in Greek food and is waiting to catch a cab, his phone starts buzzing incessantly. He pulls it out, surprised to see that no one is actually calling him, and instead he's receiving an influx of text messages.

 “ _grimshaw change of plans.no stupid duck feeding were going to a culb”_

“ _club”_

“ _cleared with marcel already”_

“ _what a knobhead”_

“ _dont embarrass me”_

Nick looks up and examines his hair in a nearby shop window. He'd left it down, thinking he wouldn't have to dress too nicely to see his friends and take a walk in the park with Louis. But now it looks like he's going to have to take a detour to his house and fix himself up. He gets a new set of texts with the address of the club and a warning should Nick be late. He huffs, pocketing the phone and vowing to act extra obnoxious when they're in front of the cameras.

At least his night got a bit more interesting.

 

*

 

No, Louis thinks. Wrong. This is _not_ how tonight was supposed to go.

Nick's just walked into the club, fifteen minutes late, but that's not exactly what Louis is focused on.

No, Louis is fixated on Nick's hair. He's expected him to show up in the usual atrocious outfit, with his hair up stupid high and jeans so tight Louis sometimes gets phantom pains in his crotch just thinking about it. His pants are still just as tight, but his hair.

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” Louis asks, glaring, once Nick's made it over to where he's waiting. Nick has his nose scrunched up in distaste at their surroundings.

 “What's wrong with _you_?” Nick asks. “This place is awful.”

 “Your hair,” Louis says tersely. “Why.” It's _down_. Louis has never seen it down, has never seen it without an entire bottle of product smushed around in it. His hair is _curly,_ curly and soft-looking and _curly_.

 When they were kids, Louis had been fascinated by Harry’s hair. It was thick and bouncy and he’d made Harry cry on a near daily basis because he couldn’t resist tugging it.

 He wants to do that now, just reach up and grab a handful, ruffle it up a bit. He wants to pull it just to watch it bounce back messily in Nick’s eyes. It’s distracting. He needs it to go away.

 Nick runs a hand through it, and no, that’s _Louis’_ job. “Is it really that bad?” Nick says, “only by the time I’d gotten home and changed I was late and didn’t have time for a blow dry.” He bites his lip, tugging at his hair again. Louis looks away, annoyed.

 “Whatever, it's fine. Come on.” He starts walking to where he knows Harry and Liam are waiting for them. Nick follows, but they keep getting separated in the crowd. He reaches back to grab Nick's wrist. “You're useless,” he tells Nick, loud over the music. “This way you won't get lost like an infant.” Nick doesn't say anything in response, just rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged.

 They'd gotten a table in the VIP section, of course, and by the time Louis makes it back with Nick Harry's literally been surrounded. They can see his sunshine face beaming like a beacon in the middle of a crowd of people. A few feet away Liam stands brooding, glare darkening with every person that moves closer to Harry.

 “Out of the way,” Louis yells over the chatter and a few of them turn to glare.

 “Is that Harry Styles?” Nick squeaks behind him, and Louis rolls his eyes, pulling him forward. It's at that moment that Harry looks up, turning that spotlight smile onto Louis.

 “Lou! You're back! And Grimmy!” He stands excitedly, moving to greet them. “You're here!”

 “Oh my god,” Nick says, before closing his gaping mouth and managing to greet Harry properly. “Hi, uh, hello, your...highness,” Harry wrinkles his nose, but in a way Louis knows means he thinks Nick is adorable. “I'm, uh, Nick. Or Grimmy.”

“I know!” Harry says excitedly, “I listen to your show! _Huge_ fan, mate, really.” Nick looks dumbstruck.

 “Oh,” he says, “I mean, thanks. Really?”

“Of course!” Harry says. “Excellent music.”

“Thanks,” Nick says again, voice high-pitched.

“Yeah, yeah, Harry listens to the same hipster shit you do. Blah blah introductions. Let's focus on the important part of tonight, which is getting smashed.” He grabs Harry's cheeks, pulling his face down to look him straight in the eye “ _Please_ , Harry.” Nick raises an eyebrow at Louis and Harry adopts a wounded expression.

 “ _Louis_ ,” Harry says, and Louis groans.

“How do you expect me to endure this shit music if I can't drink?” He flails his arms dramatically, barely missing Liam, who's abandoned the bodyguard act to come over and join them.

“Liam likes this place. Don't be mean.”

 “Yeah, Tommo, don't be mean,” Liam teases, elbowing Louis in the side. Louis immediately retaliates by slapping him on the back of the head. Next think Louis knows he's in a full on slap fight in the middle of a public place.

 “Grimmy,” Harry says, fighting a smile, “this is Liam, my bodyguard and one of my closest friends.” Liam beams at that, catching Louis in a headlock. He reaches to shake Nick's hand.

 “I know the bloke who owns this place,” he says, tightening his grip as Louis tries to wriggle away. “Anything you need, just say you're with me.”

 “Cheers,” Nick says. He looks a bit confused. Good, Louis thinks pettily, before ducking his head to lick along Liam's arm. Liam is not fazed, too used to Louis' antics, so Louis goes completely limp. Liam drops him.

 “Liam! That's disgusting!” he says, standing up. Nick laughs out loud.

 “Shut up, you. I won't have my fake boyfriend laughing at me.”

 Nick freezes, looking pointedly from Louis to Harry and Liam, who don't look any different. He takes them in for a moment and narrows his eyes. “You _told them_?”

 Louis snorts. “As if I would lie to my best friends,” Louis snaps and Nick winces, frowning deeply. He takes a step closer to Louis, leaning in.

 “I've been spending this entire time lying to _everyone I know_ ,” he hisses, “because I thought that's what we agreed on, you arrogant dickhead–“

 “Okay!” Harry says, clapping Nick on the back. “Let's not make a fuss. How's about I buy you a drink, Grim? Make it up to you.” He leads Nick away then with a hand on his back. Nick looks upset, but Harry seems to have it under control. Louis sighs, nudging Liam.

“Well that could have been bad, right Payno?” Liam just sighs.

 “You're such dick, Lou,” he says tiredly. He looks after them, brow furrowed. Louis looks back to see them huddled at the bar. It's weird to admit, but they look sort of nice together, like a pair of giraffes on the Serengeti. Giraffes in skinny jeans. Weirdly surreal, like Louis' on a hipster safari. Louis blinks.

 “Right,” he says, rubbing the back of Liam's head. “I'm getting trashed tonight.” Liam doesn't even argue, and together they make their way to the bar.

 

*

 

The best thing, by far, about Harry and Nick quickly becoming Best Friends Forever, is that the distraction is enough for Louis to get in a secret drink. Or two. Or five. But the worst thing about Nick and Harry becoming Best Friends Forever is _everything else_.

 Nick is Harry's Type. To be fair, basically everything is Harry's type. Louis has seen squirrels before and thought, “that squirrel is Harry's type.” But Nick is _especially_ Harry's type. Lanky and pale, with bad taste in music and full of references nobody understands. If Louis hadn't gotten over his crush on Harry when he was thirteen he would feel threatened.

 Unfortunately, Liam does not have the advantage of having one time witnessed Harry eat so many marshmallows he threw up in a fishbowl, so he still views Harry as a sexual being. He’s coping with the situation by brooding and not talking to Louis. He's not _technically_ on duty, but Liam always acts like his job is to protect the Queen of England and not to make sure Harry doesn't lock himself in his car. Again.

 Nick's not helping, either. Louis watches as he says something that makes Harry laugh in that loud squawking way he does when he finds something particularly hilarious. Nick smiles fondly at him as he covers his mouth self-consciously. And what business does Nick have flirting when he's got a perfectly good fake boyfriend?

 Somewhere in the back of his mind, Louis acknowledges that he isn't really making sense. He also acknowledges that he has no real reason to be annoyed. Harry is basically married to Liam, and Louis doesn't even _like_ Nick, but he doesn't care. And anyway, it's how a _real_ boyfriend would be expected to act.

 “I'm an excellent actor,” he tells Liam. “I even act in my own brain. I should go into the industry. I could win a BAFTA.”

 “You just go ahead and tell yourself that, Lou,” Liam says, still moping and staring at Harry. He straightens. “There's a photographer heading their way.”

 Louis looks and, sure enough, a guy with a huge camera is heading their way. Probably thinking, correctly, that a picture of the two of them would make for some excellent advertising.

 Tonight was meant to make for some excellent advertising for Louis and Nick's relationship, which would all be ruined if the photographer took pictures of Nick with the wrong guy.

“Ugh,” Louis groans, reaching over to grab Liam's drink and down it in one go. “Guess duty calls.” He makes his way over to them quickly, elbowing people out of the way. When he reaches them Harry smiles brightly.

 “Louis! Hi! I was just telling Nick a few stories from when we were kids.”

 Louis feels weirdly happy that he'd been the topic of discussion. “Really,” he deadpans, “did you tell him about the time you vommed in the fishbowl?” Harry makes a face and Nick laughs. Louis turns to Nick then. “Hold my hand.” He holds his hand out expectantly.

 “What? No!” Nick says. “Why would I want to do that?”

 Louis makes a frustrated noise. “Because we're _dating_ , assface, and there's a photographer coming round. Let's try and avoid him getting pictures of you flirting with my best mate.” Nick's cheeks pink at that, and Louis' mouth twists. He reaches over and grabs Nick's hand, pulling him until Louis is settled with his back against Nick's chest.

 Harry looks _far_ too amused by them. “Should I leave?” he says, smirking.

 Nick shakes his head. “'Course not.” He hugs Louis to him a bit tighter. “Right, darling?” he continues, loudly, and Louis elbows him in the stomach.

 “Yes, dear,” he says over Nick's grunt. He twines their fingers together over his stomach and refuses to let his brain admit that it feels nice. He's drunk and he's a cuddler, and it just so happens that Nick is the perfect size for shit like this. “Now shut up.”

 Soon enough, the photographer approaches them, asking for a picture. He steps back, lining up the shot to fit all three of them, and Louis has a split second to think about his next decision. He's drunk enough to go for it.

 He reaches up and tangles his fingers in Nick's hair (finally) and drags hum down, smashing his lips into Nick's cheek. Harry laughs loudly, delighted, and the photographer snaps another picture of Nick's shocked face.

 Louis disentangles himself after that, but doesn't let go of Nick's hand. He smirks and Nick looks dumbfounded. Nick had always been quick to flirt obnoxiously in front of the paparazzi, but he rarely took it beyond touching Louis' hand or doing stupid things like opening doors for him and pulling out chairs. Louis hadn't exactly planned his decision to stage the photo, but he's starting to think of it like a dare. So far he's been the only one of the two to take their innocent public relationship a step further and now he wants to see what Nick does about it.

 Nick looks at him questioningly, and then his expression changes and Louis knows he's recognized Louis' challenge for what it is. “Darling,” he says slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Would you like to dance?”

Louis can't resist the grin that spreads across his face. Harry looks back and forth between them, confused and delighted, and steps back. Louis lets Nick lead him into the crowd of people dancing, conveniently where the photographer seemed to be headed after taking their picture.

 For the first time in a while, Louis starts to think things are looking up.

 

*

 

Nick has been out as gay since he was six years old and told his mum he was going to marry Indiana Jones. Nick’s sexuality was obvious before he knew what sexuality really was. Nick has slept with a few men. Nick has done the Full Sex with men. There’s not really much further you can go when it comes to Gay Stuff. Of all the things he is, ashamed or unaware of his homosexuality he’s never been.

 Which is why Nick begins to question everything he is and knows when he enters a weeks long battle of Gay Chicken with his fiance.

 From that first drunken night at the pub, him and Louis have been fighting over who can be the Most Homosexual in front of the cameras.

They’ve done everything short of snogging: Ass grabs (Nick), dick grabs (Louis), holding hands (Nick), and inappropriate grinding in a public place (Louis). There’s no real point to it, and Nick’s getting so much shit for it, from both the press and the people he knows, but he can’t give up and let Louis win.

 No matter how frustrated all the PDA makes him.

 Nick, for all he’s an open book with everything else, has always been uncomfortable with showing the details of his love life with other people. He doesn’t think it’s necessary, especially when it comes to doing things like showing off in front of others. He doesn’t find it sexy or sweet at all, but there’s only so much of Louis climbing all over him in public that he can take before the sexual tension becomes too much and he explodes.

 Okay, fine, Nick will admit that Louis is fucking gorgeous. He’s got these striking blue eyes, and nice cheekbones. Once, Nick wasted a whole afternoon looking up pictures of him on the internet, and that was _before_ he was fake engaged to him.

 Sometimes, when Louis is being irritating and Nick can get away with it, Nick just checks out and thinks about Louis’ legs. One time Louis had forced Nick to give him a piggyback ride back to Nick’s car after one of their dates, and he had sort of...bit Nick’s neck the whole time. Nick can’t stop thinking about it, or about how nicely his hands fit around Louis’ thighs.

Honestly, Nick’s facing a year of forced celibacy, he really doesn't need the extra pressure.

 He’s happy, at least, that he has his own place to retreat to, where he has wifi and privacy. He’s looking forward to just that after a day of stress-shopping, only to walk in and see the Incredible Hulk waiting for him.

 He screams, dropping his many shopping bags on the floor, and then a herd of what sounds like wildebeests come stampeding towards him. He plasters himself to the door, preparing for death.

 A few seconds later, Louis, Liam, Harry, and two strangers appear in his front hall, along with the statue of the Hulk.

 “What is--” he sputters, “who are? How did you _get in my house?_ ” Louis steps forward at that, crossing his arms.

 “There was a change of plans,” he says. “I’m moving in early.”

 “What do you mean? What happened?” Nick stops. “And that doesn’t answer how the hell you got in.”

 Louis waves a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Keeping your spare key under the ceramic frog on your doorstep was not the smartest move, I could have been anybody.”

 “Me and Liam came to help Louis move in,” Harry says. He’s wearing a hot pink apron that he must have brought himself, and he has his hair tied back in a tiny ponytail.

 “Honestly, we didn’t know he’d _broken in_ ,” Liam says, rubbing his temples. Nick doesn’t think he’s met anyone he identifies with as much as he does Liam.

 Nick sighs, he should probably get used to this. He bends down to pick up his shopping. Harry scrambles to help him, almost tripping over his own feet. “And who’s this, then?” he says, gesturing to the two extra people in his house. “Also, we’re not keeping that.”

 He doesn't even bother pointing to the Hulk.

 “This is Niall and Zayn,” Louis says, Niall waves awkwardly. He’s on crutches for no reason Nick can see, but his smile is blinding. Nick instantly trusts him, even though he probably shouldn’t, knowing Louis. Zayn nods at him and Nick takes a second to appreciate the view. Like, damn. _Where_ did Louis find this guy? “I found them when I got here. Zayn was tagging your fence.” Nick snaps out of his Zayn’s-face induced haze.

 “He was _what_ ,” Nick asks, and Zayn sticks out his chin defiantly.

 “Street art is like, a legitimate form of artistic expression,” he says, voice smooth as honey. “I was just --”

 “He was drawing a picture of an alien smoking a blunt,” Louis interrupts. “They tried to run away, but Niall moves slower than anything. I told them I wouldn’t call the police if they helped me move in.”

 “Zayn’ll paint over it, sir, promise,” Niall says in a thick Irish accent. “We’re really sorry.”

 “First thing,” Nick says in response, “don’t call me sir. I’m not that old. It’s fine.” It’s not really.

 “Me and Niall are making tacos?” Harry says, but Nick is suddenly exhausted. He walks passed them to see his living room looking like a war zone, boxes everywhere. Louis moves up to his side, leaning in to speak so the rest of them won’t hear (if Nick has to bend awkwardly to reach Louis’ level, neither of them say anything).

 “Came home last night to see my dad had already had people come and pack all my things,” he says quickly, but before Nick can respond he’s scurrying to one of the boxes. He pulls out a jar of marbles, a football, and a Power Ranger action figure and dumps them on the floor. Zayn saunters passed Nick and sits next to Louis, picking up the action figure and examining it intently.

 “I don’t,” Nick says weakly. “My house isn’t big enough for all of this.”

 “Well, you’re the one who didn’t want to move in with me, God knows dad’s happy to be rid of me.” Louis pulls out a giant rainbow slinky. “It was going to happen eventually.” He throws the slinky over his shoulder onto a growing pile of junk.

 “Look, Grimmy, mate,” Liam moves passed him, already bending down to pick up some of Louis’ stuff. “We’ll get this cleaned up right away, promise.”

 Nick wants to protest, wants to pack all of Louis’ toys back into their boxes and send him back to his giant mansion, but he doesn’t have a choice, so he just sighs. “Whatever,” he says, “I’m going to have a kip before I head to the studio. Try not to break anything or invite any more criminals in.” He stomps away childishly, heading towards his bedroom. He has to navigate a mess of even _more_ boxes in his hallway.

 Behind him, he hears Zayn say “Mate, your boyfriend’s a bit of a dick.” and enough after that to know Louis agrees. He closes his bedroom door on them and puts his hands over his face.

 He’d _really_ wanted a wank.

 

*

 

A couple hours later, after Nick had forced himself to take that nap he’d talked about, he wakes up to find all the loud bangs and distressed yells he’d tried desperately not to think about have stopped.

 He sits up quickly, listening hard. His house is complete silent, but by now Nick knows Louis well enough to know that doesn’t necessarily mean the coast is clear.

 He hops out of bed and tiptoes to his bedroom door, feeling a bit like an idiot. Peeking out, he’s surprised to see his hallway clear of boxes and junk. He pads out, socked feet slapping softly on the hardwood floor. He doesn’t hear any voices, or any of the banging that had characterized his afternoon, and when he gets to his living room the only person he sees is Louis sitting in a nest of what looks like every blanket in the house.  He’s rummaging through a box of framed photos.

 “Your couch is like a fucking rock,” Louis says in greeting, not looking up.

 “You’re rich, aren’t you?” Nick asks. “Buy a new one.” Louis doesn’t respond, just rolls his eyes. Nick has a bit before he has to head to the studio, so he drapes himself across his apparently uncomfortable couch and pulls out his phone.

 “Oh,” he says, blinking. “You followed me on twitter.”

 “ _Marcel_ followed you on twitter.”

 “Well, it is a bit weird, not following your own boyfriend on twitter.” He sits up. “Wait, we _have_ to commemorate this moment.” He pulls up his phones’ camera and angles it toward Louis on the floor. Louis dutifully grins up and flips him off, box in his lap. Nick throws a filter over it and uploads it to instagram. _Funny. Took @louist91 longer to follow me on twitter than it took for him to make himself comfortable. x_

He immediately receives a barrage of texts and notifications from his friends. Wincing, he throws his phone to the end of the couch. “What are you doing, anyway? Need any help?”

 “I didn’t mean to just barge in like this,” Louis says, completely ignoring Nick’s questions. “I _didn’t have a choice._ ” His shoulders are slowly inching towards his ears, and he won’t look at Nick. “Like I said, my dad actually had my stuff all packed away when I got home.”

 “It’s alright,” Nick says. It’s not really. “It was going to happen sooner or later.”

 “Harry said I should apologize,” Louis says. “But I didn’t have a choice.”

 “Well, a little warning would have been nice,” Nick says. “And also not inviting total strangers into my home.”

 “Liam was with us, nothing would have happened,” he finally looks up at Nick, pouting. “And Zayn and Niall are great, which you would know if you hadn’t been a huge dickhead earlier.”

 “It’s the principle of the thing,” Nick says, ignoring Louis’ jab. “But there’s nothing we can do now.”

 “I invited them to come over whenever they want,” Louis says. “I’m going to be stuck here, aren’t I? I need friends.”

 Nick groans. “ _Fine_ , just make sure he paints over my fence. Or at least paints something nice. It’s the least I can do considering my living room no longer looks like a toy factory exploded.” He pauses. “Don’t tell them about...us, though. You don’t know who they’ll tell.”

 “I’m not _stupid_ ,” Louis snaps. “Liam already gave me the lecture.”

 “Thank god for Liam, then,” Nick tries to grab his phone with his toes and scoot it back towards his hands. “It’s bad enough I have to lie to all my friends, with you telling people left and right.”

 “ _When_ are you going to get over that? Harry would have known anyway.” Louis shrugs. “Speaking of, he left you some tacos in the stove.” Nick makes a loud, appreciative noise, scrambling up to get to the kitchen, slipping a little on the way. It’s still warm, so Nick just grabs the pan and digs in. “I’m marrying the wrong socialite,” he calls into the other room.

 “Don’t let Liam hear you say that,” Louis yells in response and Nick snorts his agreement. By now he’s caught onto Liam and Harry’s epic love story.

 “What’s their deal, anyway? Why aren’t they together?” Louis doesn’t answer. Nick wanders back into the room, still eating, and plops down next to Louis on the floor. Louis hasn’t actually taken any of the pictures out of the box, just rearranged them. Nick spots one of a child whose big green eyes immediately identify him as Harry, and another boy with a smile so mischievous it could only be Louis.

 “I had them up at home,” Louis says, not bothering to clarify. “But…”

 Nick understands. He would feel uncomfortable putting personal things up in someone else’s house as well, and that’s what the house must feel like. God knows Nick is still thinking of it as just his house. He reaches in and grabs a picture at random. It’s a selfie, packed full of little girls of varying ages, trying to squeeze their way into the shot.

 “My sisters,” Louis says, and Nick gives him a questioning look. “Well, most of them. Half-sisters, from my mum.” He takes the frame from Nick and runs a hand over it. “I’ve got five sisters and a brother. The last brother and sister are new.” He puts the picture back on top of the pile. “I haven’t actually met them yet.”

 “Why not?” Nick asks, curious. Louis doesn’t answer him.

 “Sorry about breaking into your home,” he says begrudgingly after a while, and Nick just nods. All of a sudden Louis looks so tired. Nick looks at his phone and curses the time.

 “I’ve got to get going,” he says, moving to the kitchen to dump the pan in the sink. “My show ends at midnight, so I wouldn’t wait up if I were you.” He goes back to pull on his shoes by the front door and pauses, padding back into the living room where Louis still sits, nestled in his blankets. “Louis,” he looks up and Nick gulps. “Put the pictures up. You might as well make yourself comfortable, if you’re going to be living here. And it’s more convincing that way.” He turns to leave then, feeling his cheeks warm. Moving towards his hall closet to grab his coat, he hears Louis shout “Wait!” a second too late.

 As soon as the door is opened, boxes fall out dramatically, like Nick’s life has become a cartoon.  Louis’ there quickly, digging him out of the pile of stuff. Once Nick’s free, they stare at each other a moment, before Louis lets out a loud laugh, clamping both hands over his mouth. He’s unable to contain his giggles, however, and a moment later is doubled over, laughing harder than Nick’s ever seen him. Nick just nods dazedly and reaches into the closet to grab his coat. He walks out the front door, Louis’ loud laughter at his back, and manages to get himself situated in his car not long after. Once he’s settled, he just drops his forehead onto his steering wheel and laughs and laughs.

 Later, when he finally gets back after dodging texts and questions about his latest instagram photo, he walks into his house to see the Hulk still where he’d been left, the dropped boxes still scattered onto the floor, and Louis curled up in a ball on the floor of the living room, a cooking show on the television.

 For a second he considers leaving him there, but Nick’s come face to face with a grumpy Louis before, and he doesn’t know if he could deal with living with that.He gently coaxes Louis awake and pulls him up awkwardly, leading him with Nick’s hands on his shoulders until they reach the guest room. Predictably, his suspicions are confirmed and Louis has just dumped all of his boxes and junk in there, barely leaving room to walk, let alone leaving room on the bed.

 Nick thinks about it for a second, considers the fact that his options are the uncomfortable floor nest or his own bed. He groans and mutters under his breath as he directs them both towards his room.

 Luckily, Louis had changed into his pajamas before falling asleep, so Nick all but dumps him onto the bed as soon as they arrive. Nick’s no stranger to sharing a bed. He prefers it, actually, but there's something about Louis’ dopey sleep face that intimidates the shit out of him.

 Eventually, he slips in on the other side of the bed, keeping as far away from the boy as possible. This is the actual last place he imagined being, with the absolute last person, but he thinks about the hallway, and it’s plethora of new lopsided photos, and thinks that maybe it won’t always be that way.

 

*

 

The next day Louis wakes up, blinking blearily and feeling really comfortable. He remembers falling asleep on his terrible makeshift bed in the living room, already missing his bed back home, so the whole experience is a bit disorienting.

 Once he’s able to focus, he can see who the culprit behind the sleeping arrangement is. It’s not that early, or that late, but the way morning sun shines across the room gives everything a weird dreamlike feel, and Louis can’t stop looking at Nick’s face.

 He can’t remember the last time he woke up next to someone, but it’s never quite been like this. He studies Nick’s slack features wearily. He doesn’t look angelic, or any of that bullshit. He actually looks pretty stupid, mouth open with the slightest amount of drool and his hair all askew. But all the same, Louis can’t rip his eyes from what must be the faded remnants of freckles dusted across Nick’s nose and cheeks. After a moment he can’t help inching closer to Nick, wishing he could reach over and ghost his fingers over them.

 He’s still mostly asleep, but he feels content in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, waking up next to Nick, so he goes ahead and does it. He trails a hand across Nick’s cheek, and Nick scrunches his face in response, nose wrinkling, before smashing his face into the pillow. It’s really fucking cute, and Louis can’t help the sleepy smile that stretches across his face. He wants to move even closer, dig his hands into Nick’s hair and ruffle him awake so Nick can look at him and Louis can see his freckles up close again. And oh shit, he thinks, eyes opening wide, he’s really got to do something about this apparent crush he’s developed on his fiance.

 

He doesn’t do anything about it. If anything, it gets worse.

Louis’ got so much shit. He had no clue he had so much shit. He’d moved to his dad’s full time when he was ten years old, with an overnight bag and the thought that, if he had anything to do with it, he’d be back at his mum’s in a week. He’s not really sure how he got to this point.

 “Louis, do you _really_ need this?” Nick asks, walking passed Louis carrying a box of what looks like wind-up toys and a Nintendo 64.

 “Of _course_ I do, Nicholas,” Louis yells, torso deep in a box of footballs. “Everything I own is a priceless treasure!” Nick just sighs and keeps walking, muttering about finding a place for them and Louis ignores the little flip he gets in his belly because there’s _no damn reason for it_. Niall hobbles over and looks into the box Louis’ ass is currently hanging out of. He yells excitedly and grabs one of the footballs.

 “Louis, mate, can I have this?” he says, bouncing it back and forth between his hands. Louis crawls out and eyes his knee, still recovering from intensive surgery, pointedly. He rolls his eyes. “For when I get better,” Niall says hopefully, and Louis just shrugs and dives back into the box. Niall cheers and throws the ball at Zayn where he lies napping in a corner. Zayn grunts, but just turns onto his stomach and goes back to sleep. In the kitchen he can hear Harry and Liam laughing loudly at something probably stupid together.

 They’re meant to be organizing Louis’ stuff. It’s been over a month since Louis moved in and he’s put it off, using his room as a storage space, and Nick’s had enough.

 “My house has become a home for a bunch of asshole teenagers,” Nick said, waking them all up that morning where they had passed out playing video games the night before, “might as well put you to work.”

 Harry and Liam had been over nearly every day since Louis’d moved in, and Zayn and Niall were almost the same. Nick hadn’t complained about it since the first day, just waving it off when Louis asked about it. “I’m used to people coming and going,” he said, “my friends basically lived here, at one point. And plus,” he gestured to Louis who had been, at the time, squished in a cuddle between Harry and Zayn, Niall draped extravagantly across them, with Liam at their feet.. “You’re all so fucking cute.”

 Louis didn’t ask about Nick’s friends, or why they weren’t around as much anymore. He can guess, between all the nights in and late-night conversations over the phone, assuring that Nick is “fine, god, really. We’re just settling in.” He knows Nick hates lying to his friends, because he never fucking stops giving Louis shit about telling Harry and Liam, and it’s easier for Nick to keep up the act if he’s not around his friends. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t just tell them, if they are so close. Or why he doesn’t just bring them around to meet Louis more often, so they could stop worrying at least.

 (deep down, he knows Nick doesn’t bring his friends around him because his friends think Louis’ a total asshole, but he tells himself he doesn’t care. They’re pretentious dicks anyway.)

 He’s done fine keeping up the act around Niall and Zayn. In fact, he thinks he’s been _very_ convincing when it comes to his new friends. _Too_ convincing, because he’s sure they’ve caught onto his crush by now.

 “You guys are so cute,” Niall says, folding one of Louis shirts from the giant pile on the bed (Louis’ method of unpacking). “Being all domestic and everything. Like an old married couple.” Louis winces.

 “Yeah, if forcing me to do manual labor is domestic,” Louis says.

 “Don’t you want to, like, properly move in?” Zayn asks, and then he grins. “I mean, you’ve already moved into his bedroom,” he says cheekily, nudging Louis in the ass with a socked foot.

 Two days after meeting Louis outside Nick’s house, Niall and Zayn had upgraded to the type of friends that didn’t knock before entering. Considering Nick always locked up, and that neither of them had keys, that was really something. So not long after meeting, they’d come over unannounced to find Louis bundled peacefully in Nick’s bed, Nick having left earlier to get brunch with a friend. They’d given Louis shit about it since, which was stupid because, technically, Nick was Louis’ boyfriend and they lived together. Where the hell did they think he slept?

 It hadn’t taken long after meeting them that Nick completely won over Louis’ new friends, even Zayn. He was endlessly charming, and willing to talk to Niall about music for _hours_. He’d went out to look at Zayn’s “art” he’d left on the back garden fence, Zayn following guiltily, and by the time they’d come back inside Zayn was smiling, having agreed to paint over the alien but only so he could paint a proper mural there instead.

 Harry, of course, was basically head over heels for Nick from their first meeting, and if Louis didn’t know he was pretty much soulmates with Liam, Louis would be worried about keeping his fake relationship and Not Jealous At All. Liam, for his part, has been adorably torn between pretending to hate Nick and laughing at all of his jokes. Louis can identify with that.

 Overall, it’s fucking with Louis’ head. Really, all Nick’s done is be a perfectly good housemate, but combined with their obscene displays in public and, likely, the fact that Louis hasn’t gotten laid in _months_ , Louis’ mind is all jumbled up and thinks it has a crush.

 By the end of the day, they’ve managed to find places to ( _neatly_ ) store most of Louis’ things around Nick’s house, and together they’d talked Louis into making up a huge pile of things to donate. After celebratory pizza and a fifa tournament, Niall and Zayn made their way home, each with a box of stuff Louis had given them and promises to be back soon, and Harry and Liam collapsed into a tired cuddle on the couch

 “Might as well head home now,” Liam yawns and gestures to Harry laying completely limp against his side. “If he falls asleep there’s no hope moving him. Poor Hazza’s all tuckered out.”

 “I don’t see why he would be,” Nick says. “You’re the one who did all the heavy lifting. All he did was run around offering snacks. You should make him drive you home.”

From where he’s sitting on the floor, Louis freezes. “His” room has now been cleaned out, ready for him to move in and stop invading Nick’s bedroom. The concept is horrifying.

 “You can stay here,” he blurts out, and everyone looks at him questioningly. Even Harry opens a bleary eye. “I mean, you live so far away, and we’ve got a perfectly good bed.” Nick raises an eyebrow at him and he ignores it.

 “Oh, um,” Liam says, blushing. “I mean, I would take the couch.”

 “Shut up, that couch is made of granite,” Louis says. “You can share a bed, jesus. Me and Nick do it all the time.” He clamps his mouth shut at that, blushing. Harry opens his eyes at that, looking concernedly at Louis.

 “Aren’t you excited at the idea of finally having your own bed?” Harry asks. Louis can feel Nick looking at him, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Louis swallows.

 “What’s one more night?” he says, voice cracking a bit at the end. He looks at Nick finally, but his face is blank. “Do you have a problem with it, Nick?”

 “‘Course not,” Nick says casually. “Don’t be ridiculous, Liam. You’re knackered. You’re always welcome here, you and Harry.” Liam opens his mouth to protest, and Nick cuts him off, grinning. “Only rule here lovebirds is no sex. There will be no hanky panky in my house, you two. Absolutely not.”

 A surprised laugh bursts from Louis and Harry shakes with giggles where his face is pressed into Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s cheeks become darker than Louis’ ever seen them. “We’re not -- Of course not!” Liam sputters, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shaking shoulder.

 “I should hope not,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. “That’s _my_ bed you’re sleeping in.”

 “Not that you’re using it,” Harry says, voice muffled in Liam’s shoulder and Louis scowls.

 “Because I’m letting _you_ use it, wanker,” he says. “I’ll sleep there from tomorrow on. Do you think I _like_ sleeping next to him?” He jerks a thumb to Nick. “He takes up the whole bed, it’s like sleeping in a pile of sticks.”

 “ _I_ take up the whole bed?” Nick says incredulously. “Hold on, let me show you the _bruises_ I have from him kicking me.”

 “Well, after tonight you won’t have to ever deal with that ever again,” Louis snaps, standing up. “I’m going to bed. Stay or not, I don’t care,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room, stomping to the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He sits on the end of the bed and huffs, running a hand down his face, and takes a moment before he gets up to get ready for bed.

 The next night, Harry and Liam go home, and Louis lays in his brand new bedroom, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness and thinking he is so, so screwed.

 

*

 

Nick shivers, walking out of the studio and into the cold. He’s just been let off for his week-long break for Christmas. Usually he’d be heading off right away, off to Manchester to see his family, but things had become...complicated.

 They’d been doing so well at the whole living together thing. As well as they could be expected to do, at least. Nick’s lived with people before, but Louis is definitely the most high maintenance sort-of roommate he’s ever had. For one, he’s fucking weird. Nick’s been doing an unofficial study on the natural habits of Louis.

 First thing is, Nick notices that Louis has this habit of just _hiding_ shit everywhere. He doesn’t know if he’s nesting or planning something or just doing it to throw Nick off. He finds six pairs of socks stuffed in with his record collection, and toys of all the Avengers in his freezer. Sometimes before Nick sits on his couch he has to dig through the cushions to pull out whatever toy or tool or shoe Louis’ stuffed in there throughout the day.

 Second is, he’s messy. Nick supposes this could be chalked up to the pack of teenage boys in his house every day rather than just Louis (though he’s seen Louis’ room), but he’s messy on an unbelievable scale. Nick’s not exactly a neat freak, he can be quite messy himself, but Louis astounds even him. Once he was looking in Louis’ room, getting Louis’ phone as he was too lazy to get up off the living room floor himself, and he saw a piece of pizza laying face down in the middle of the bed. He makes tea and uses a different cup every time, usually dumping the last one on the nearest flat surface. Or even just putting it on the floor for Nick to accidentally kick.

 On top of that, living with Louis is like living with a rabid chimpanzee. He jumps off all the furniture, does handstands in the hallway, and climbs all over Nick’s kitchen counters, trying to reach the upper cabinets. He’s constantly bouncing everywhere, seemingly never losing energy, and his favorite thing to do seems to be having his boys dare him to do increasingly stupid shit.

 Altogether, Louis has broken five plates, three mugs, and a lamp. He’s also broken one of the legs off one of the chairs on Nick’s dining room table. One day, before it got too cold for them to go into the garden, Louis had literally fallen _through a window_ playing footy with Zayn and Liam. Nick spends half his time lamenting his broken furniture and half worrying Louis’ going to _die_ because he’s jumped off the roof again 

It’s stressful, but secretly Nick will admit to himself that he’s never bored. He can’t exactly go out as much anymore, feeling guilty for both lying to his friends and leaving Louis, who has actually been told not to go out as much. Before, this would basically be a prison sentence for Nick, but more often he’s realizing he doesn’t mind. Every day he’s quietly adding a new quirk or fact about Louis to his list, and he thinks it’s worth a few nights in.

He’s learned, also, that not a lot of the information he files away are good things.

Nick’s known Louis and his father’s relationship is strained, it’s been obvious since five minutes after Nick met him. He thinks the fact that he’s basically orchestrating Louis’ entire life and has yet to show his face is pretty telling. Louis rarely says anything positive about his dad, and Nick privately doesn’t blame him. Louis may act like an asshole most of the time, but no one deserves to be treated the way Louis’ dad treats him.

It had all come to a head a few weeks before, at a meeting with Marcel had planned to discuss the details of their wedding. It was coming up distressingly soon, in February, and apparently Marcel had planned every single detail already. Nick wasn’t even sure why they were even having the meeting, considering.

“I have one request,” Louis had said, in the middle of Marcel’s spiel on why he had gone for roses over lilies for their flower arrangements. Nick, who had been eying their horrible gaudy wedding invitations, looked up. They’d agreed on the way to the meeting that it was better for all involved if they just stayed out of the wedding plans, seeing as they would no doubt just be disappointed in the end. Marcel looked puzzled, and a little annoyed at being interrupted.

“Yes, Louis?” he asked, pulling open his notebook. “Just tell me and I’ll see if we can make it happen.”

“I want my mum and siblings to come,” Louis said. “You can do whatever else you want. I just want them there.”

There was an awkward silence, and Marcel tugged on his collar. “Well,” he said, shuffling some papers, “it’s no children allowed.”

 “I don’t care,” Louis said tersely. “I want my sisters and brother to be there.”

“My family is going to be there,” Nick said, trying to help. “It makes sense for Louis’ to be there as well.”

Marcel wouldn’t look at them, focusing intently on the pictures he had of possible wedding cakes. “Mr. Austin has made it clear that your mother’s family is not to be on the guest list,” he said. “I’m sorry, Louis.”

Nick expected Louis to blow up at that, fight for his family to be there, but he just sat there, mouth a thin line. He didn’t say anything else for the rest of the interview. After that, Nick had to work, even though he hadn’t really wanted to leave Louis alone. When he arrived home that night, Louis’ carefully hung up photos of his family were off the wall and dumped in a corner.

While Louis had never had anything good to say about his dad, everything he told Nick about his mum and sisters was overwhelmingly positive. He was the oldest, and when prompted he would tell Nick about having to help take care of them when he was young. Nick had gathered that Louis had been sent to live with his dad at a young age, but his childhood had been spent primarily with his mum.

He learned Louis’ sisters’ names, Louis pointing to each one in the pictures he had. He’d pulled up the pictures his mother had emailed of his new siblings proudly. Louis was quiet about a lot of the aspects of his childhood and upbringing, but Nick admired how much he loved his family, especially considering the current strained state of his own relationship  with his family, even with Nick doing this for them.

Since then, Louis has been a terror to behold. Between brooding and glaring at everything that moves, he barely does anything outside sitting on the floor of Nick’s living room watching bad television. Not even his boys have been able to cheer him up, and after being snapped at one too many times they’ve stopped coming over as much. Harry comes with Nick every once in a while to the studio to sit in on the show, but together they’re unable to think of anything to do to improve Louis’ mood. That is, until a week before, when things got really bad and Nick had come home from work to see Louis had gone and gotten himself blackout drunk out of Nick’s liquor cabinet.

 Louis doesn’t usually drink as much, anymore. What’s the point if you’re just staying in? He’s never had to drink to have fun, and Nick privately thinks the fact that this whole situation began because Louis had gotten drunk is probably a big reason that Louis doesn’t drunk as much anymore. So there was obviously something wrong if Louis had felt the need to get drunk to feel better.

“It’s fucking Christmas,” he’d said as soon as Nick had entered the door. He was sitting leaning up the Hulk, which had become an unofficial coat rack of sorts, with winding tattoos drawn all over it courtesy of Zayn. He looked as though he had been sitting there for a while, waiting for Nick to come home. “It’s fucking Christmas and do you know what Christmas is?” he continued, slurring.

“Louis, what?” Nick had said, before moving to pick him up off the floor, dragging him into the living room. “How much have you drank?”

“Christmas is my _birthday_ ,” Louis continued. “And I haven’t seen my mum in a year and I can’t even fucking tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Nick said, dropping Louis down on the couch. He immediately rolled off and onto the floor. “Louis, listen, let me get you some water.”

“Can’t tell her I’m fuckin’...getting married!” he yelled, flailing an arm. “She can’t even come, can’t tell her it’s fake. What if she thinks I don’t want her there?” He looked, wide-eyed up at Nick. “I _want_ her there, Nick.”

“I know, Lou,” Nick said, though honestly Louis wasn’t making any sense. “I know, let’s just get you into bed, alright? Come on.”

He’d gathered Louis up and told himself it was because it was closer when he pulled him into his own bedroom, Louis babbling incoherently the whole time. He’d forced Louis to drink some water then, trying to calm him down enough to fall asleep. Once he was finally out, Nick called Harry not really sure what to do.

After quickly talking Harry down from driving across town at two AM to take care of Louis, Harry just told Nick to wait it out and ask him about it the next day. “It’s not my place to tell you,” Harry said, “but if you’re going to be doing this together for another eight months, you’re going to need to know everything. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you anything.”

So, the next day, after Louis woke up, hungover and miserable and angry, Nick sat him down. “I don’t give a shit that we’re not really dating,” he’d said, “but I’d like to think we’re sort of friends now, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Louis, being Louis, just walked away after that, ignoring Nick by hiding in his room all day, until Nick was in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to think about what he was going to do with his miserable fiance.

“I’m,” Louis said, opening the door to Nick’s room and scaring the everloving shit out of him, “I’m not doing this for the reason you think. I’m not some sort of shallow asshole who needs my dad’s money.”

Nick sat up, reaching over to turn on the lamp on his bedside table and gesturing for Louis to sit down on the other side of the bed, and Louis told him everything. About how his dad had left him with his mom when Louis was only ten days old, only to come back a few years later demanding joint custody.

“I don’t really know why he came back,” Louis said, shrugging. “Maybe he thought a kid would be good for his image, or something. Maybe he actually felt guilty, who knows?”

After that, Louis would spend the summers at his dad’s house with a nanny, which is how he met Harry when Harry’s parents had attended one of Louis’ dad’s parties. He hated going to his dad’s, but Harry made the summers more tolerable. Once Louis got a bit older, though, things began to change.

Once Louis’ sisters were born, and without any help from Louis’ dad, Louis’ mum and stepdad were struggling. When Louis’ mum got pregnant with the twins, Daisy and Phoebe, they knew they were going to have to get help.

“My mum’s a nurse,” Louis explained, face unreadable in the dim light. “So she makes alright money, but with me and my two sisters, with two more on the way, there was no chance her and my stepdad would be able to make ends meet.”

They went to Louis’ dad, of course, they had no other choice. “He didn’t like how close I was to my stepdad, Mark,” Louis said, looking down. “When I was three, Mark wanted to adopt me. They changed my name.” He looked down at the duvet, picking at it. “Louis Tomlinson is my actual name, though no one really calls me that anymore. It’s on all my official documents. It’s why Liam and Harry call me Tommo sometimes. I don’t think my dad liked the idea of another man having more control over his son.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me now,” Nick joked, “imagine us standing at the god damn altar and I find out I’m marrying a total stranger.” He wrinkled his nose, “Nick Tomlinson, ugh.” Louis smiled slightly, pushing at Nick’s shoulder.

“Better than Nick Austin,” Louis said. “Sounds like a porn star.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to keep my own last name, sorry love. Though I really don’t see what the problem with Louis Grimshaw.”

Louis’ dad agreed to help them, but he would be taking custody of Louis. He thought that, with one less child in the house, it would be easier for the Tomlinsons to stay afloat, and he wanted Louis to go to a fancy school to prepare him to take over his company one day. “Not that that really did much good,” Louis laughed. “I was rubbish in school. Didn’t give a shit. Now he’s stuck with me, and at first he punished me by not letting me see my family. Now, he thinks he’s gotten rid of me, but he’s still punishing me with all this,” He gestured to the room. “I talked him into continuing to send an allowance to my mum and family if I did what he asked. He said he would cut it of if I didn’t marry you, and with the new babies…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair, not looking at Nick. It was beginning to get light outside, and Nick felt heavy with all the information he was just given.

“Alright, Mother Teresa, you’re the best son in the world, I get it,” he said, and laid back down. Louis’ head snapped towards him, glaring, only for it to soften at the grin Nick was giving him. “You’re not the only one getting married to help their family financially, you know.”

“Shut up,” Louis said tiredly, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “I just wanted to explain some things. Thanks for uh, dealing with me yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick said, “in sickness and in health and all that. Don’t worry about it, Lou.”

Louis suddenly looked awkward. “I guess I’ll just, uh, leave then.” He looked exhausted and like moving was the last thing he wanted to do. Just as he was about to stand and leave, Nick grabbed his hand, pulling him down next to him.

“Come off it, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” he sighed. “Now go to sleep, it’s morning already.” He closed his eyes, only for them to open again as Louis tangled their fingers together, settling down next to him.

“Thanks,” he said, squeezing Nick’s fingers and closing his eyes. When Nick woke up later in the afternoon, their fingers were still entwined.

Which brought him to where Nick is now, getting into his car to drive home and begin phase one of his plan. He’s had Harry and Liam help him with everything, but he’s still a bit nervous about how this will play out, but he guesses that there’s no going back now. Louis’ mum and sisters are waiting.

He really hadn’t planned for things to go this way, it was purely coincidental. He’d been scrolling through his instagram notifications a few days before when he noticed. It was a like among many on a picture of Louis he had taken a while ago, sitting on the Hulk’s shoulders and flipping Nick off, as he was wont to do when Nick tried to take pictures of him. It was the “tommo” that caught his eye, and then he read the full name and realized who it was.

Lottie, _@lottietommo_ on twitter and instagram, Louis’ oldest sister. He felt a bit weird opening up her instagram, but as soon as he did he knew it was the same girl. He felt a pang of guilt at the idea of Louis’ fourteen year old sister following her older brother’s fake boyfriend to keep tabs on him. He irrationally wished he’d noticed her following him before, and impulsively followed her back.

Almost immediately he received a DM, introducing herself and demanding to know about Louis. He didn’t know what to do, thinking he had probably made a mistake, when he got the idea.

Since then, him and Lottie had been corresponding regularly. They’d have had to be, since Nick was going to sneak Louis over to his mother’s house for Christmas.

When he’d told Harry about his plan, Harry had spent a good fifteen minutes alternately hugging Nick and making excited noises, and then he’d been banned from seeing Louis until the trip. It was impossible for Harry to keep a secret from Louis. He agreed to handle Marcel though, and together they drew up a plan to make it look like Nick and Louis were going to Manchester to see Nick’s family as planned. Liam was put to work distracting Louis, with Niall and Zayn helping, so Nick and Harry could set everything up.

They decided it would be best if Nick drove them up after his last show, the day before Louis’ birthday, because Louis is more likely to fall asleep immediately on the drive over and not realize where the hell they’re actually going. Louis is still under the impression that they are heading up to Nick’s family’s place for the most awkward Christmas ever, with all of Nick’s family knowing they aren't actually together, and he’s understandably upset about that.

Louis is waiting outside for Nick when he pulls up, pillow under one arm and feet clad in slippers. “What time do you think this is? It’s my birthday,” he says, hopping in, throwing his duffle bag into the back seat. “You can’t make me wait outside with the fucking paps on my birthday.”

“There are paps? It’s midnight,” Nick says, looking around. Sure enough, there’s a man standing on Nick’s street corner with a huge camera. “Marcel’s fucking insane.”

“Did you not realize that before?” Louis says grumpily, reaching over to shut off Nick’s ipod.

“Hey, that was A$ap Rocky,” Nick says, pulling out and driving quickly away from the pap.

“And it’s my birthday, tough shit,” Louis says. “And it’s quite rude of you to not wish me a happy birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Louis,” Nick deadpans. “Now put some music on.”

Louis huffs, but does what he’s told, but he pulls out his own ipod rather than puts Nick’s back on, putting on a song he knows Nick hates. Nick sighs and considers changing route and heading to Manchester after all.

Predictably enough, Louis is out like a light within the hour, and Nick switches their ipods. He sees his phone light up with a text from Lottie, but he ignores it. He spends the rest of the drive fretting, wondering if he’s doing the right thing, and how Louis’ dad would react if he knew. He has it on good authority from Harry that he doesn’t really keep tabs on Louis anymore, letting Marcel do the job. Nick thinks that maybe Louis was right when he said his dad was trying to get rid of him by marrying him off.

When they finally reach Louis’ mum’s house in Doncaster, it’s almost four in the morning and he’s exhausted. He parks in front and turns the car off, turning nervously to Louis. He bites his lip and moves to shake Louis awake.

“Wha-?” Louis says sleepily, “We in Manchester?”

“Um, no,” Nick says, wringing his hands.

“Why the hell did you wake me up, then?” Louis snaps, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Where are we?”

“Look, don’t get mad,” Nick says. “It’s your birthday. And Christmas Eve.”

“What are you talking about?” Louis says, and he looks out the window at the house. He goes completely still.

“Just,” Nick says quickly, “your sister followed me on twitter, and she wanted to know how you were doing? And I thought you could come down and explain the wedding to your mother, and I wanted to surprise you, and sorry?”

“Nick, you _idiot_ ,” Louis says, “if my dad finds out about this--”

“He’s not!” Nick hurries to say, “because Harry’s already tweeted a bunch about us going to Manchester, and I’m going to tweet too, and you. Everyone is going to think we went to my parent’s house, but really we’re here. Celebrities do it all the time.”

Louis goes silent, looking back out the window. There’s a Christmas tree twinkling in the window and the entire neighborhood is asleep. “You’ve been talking to Lottie?”

“She’s kind of scary,” Nick says. “Sent me a million messages as soon as I followed her. She wants to know my intentions.” Louis snorts. They sit there for a moment and Nick clears his throat.

“I’m sorry, if you’re unhappy,” Nick says. “You were so upset about the wedding, we all just wanted to make it better.” He doesn’t mention that it had been his idea.

“Stupid,” Louis says, “you’re upset too. I know you probably had a million plans for your perfect fairytale wedding, and your friends are all mad at you.”

Nick shrugs. “I’m alright,” he says, “it sucks, but being with you,” he corrects himself, “ _living_ with you, it hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be.”

Louis gulps, and Nick is horrified to see his eyes have gone a little glassy. “I haven’t seen my mum in over a year.”

“Well what are we waiting for then?” Nick says, gesturing to the house. “Let’s go in!”

Louis doesn’t even stop to grab his things, just jumps out the car and runs up to the door. By the time Nick’s grabbed both their bags and made his way up to the door, Louis’ being thoroughly hugged by a woman in a dressing gown. The woman, Louis’ mum most likely, sees him and pulls away, laughing and wiping her eyes. Nick grins nervously. “Hiya,” he says, waving a bag awkwardly.

“Grimmy!” a voice comes from inside the house, and Lottie comes bounding out in Christmas pajamas.

“Nice to meet you, finally,” Nick says, as she moves to hug him.

“I _died_ when you followed me on twitter,” she says, “just _died_.”

“Oi, her own brother shows up and she ignores him for the famous DJ,” Louis says, grinning wider than Nick’s ever seen him. Lottie turns quickly and yells happily, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

Nick can’t help the smile he gets watching them, Lottie with tears streaming down her cheeks. He blinks quickly, trying to stop himself from becoming emotional, and a hand touches his arm. He turns to see Louis’ mum smiling gently at him.

“So, you’re Louis’ boyfriend, then? Lottie’s been telling me all about you. I’m Jay,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Grimmy, or Nick. It’s really nice to see you.”He quickly puts one of the bags down and extends his hand in greeting, only to be tugged into a hug, Louis’ mum reaching up on her tiptoes to get her arms around his neck. He awkwardly brings his arms around her, bending down so she doesn’t have to reach so much.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says tearfully in his ear, and he has to blink again, biting his lip.

“It’s...you’re welcome,” he says, and he looks up to see Louis smiling at him. He smiles back shyly.

“Hey, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re out in the bloody cold!” Lottie says, “let’s go in already!”

“Yes,” Louis says, “where’s my little brother and sister? Have they started talking yet? They need to meet their big brother!”

“Louis Tomlinson, if you wake up those babies there will be hell to pay,” Jay scolds. “They’ve just started sleeping through the night.”

They laugh begin to walk in, Nick has to stop to gether his bags. When he stands up, Louis’ waiting for him. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, reaching back to grab one of the’ bags from Nick. “It’s my _birthday_.” Nick snorts.

“I’m an old man, you have to make some allowances,” he jokes, and Louis rolls his eyes. He reaches back and grabs Nick’s hand, pulling him roughly into the house.

“Come on then, old man,” he says, and leads the way.

 

*

 

It was the best week of Louis’ life, probably. As soon as they woke up that morning, Daisy and Phoebe and Fizzy were all over him, asking him to play games with them and trying to fill him in on everything they did in the year or so it had been since they last saw him. And even better, they were all over _Nick_ too, asking him what famous people he’d interviewed and if he would let them paint his nails (to which he answered “the Drums?” and “of course, but not fuschia, fuschia is _not_ my color.”). Mark had come over as soon as he’d heard Louis was there (and seeing him again even though he no longer had _any_ obligation towards Louis was such a relief). He finally got to meet Doris and Ernie and basically didn’t put them down until he left. They were the best babies in the whole world, probably.

(“Better than Blue Ivy?” Nick had asked when Louis told him that. “Better than North West?”

“Please, my little brother and sister blow those nobodies out of the water.”)

The worst part was telling his mum about the fake wedding, and breaking the news to her that him and Nick weren’t actually together. She’d cried when she found out she couldn’t go and why, and Louis had felt like utter garbage. They agreed not to tell the girls, Louis’ mum would break the news to them once it got a bit closer to the wedding, so they didn’t have to find out from the press. They didn’t want to upset them, seeing as they _loved_ Nick.

You’d think their own brother wasn’t even there, when Nick was around. He sat and played Barbies with the twins and listened to Fizzy and Lottie go on about school drama. Nick had snuck last minute presents for them in his luggage, and he’d apparently had his friend Rita help him pick them out, which honestly meant nothing to Louis but meant _a lot_ to the girls for some reason. On the second to last night, him and the girls put on a talent show and Louis basically died laughing, but Nick didn’t seem embarrassed at all, even when Louis recorded part of it and sent it to Harry.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Jay had asked when her and Louis snuck off to open the bottle of champagne Nick had brought as a gift for her.

“Of course I am,” Louis said. “Everything about us has been planned by dad’s publicist.”

“I’m just saying,” Jay said, pouring a glass, “he’s done all this. He’s lied for you and put his family’s business in jeopardy. Are you sure there’s nothing there? At least on his part?” Louis hadn’t known what to say to that, so he’d just refused and moved to take a glass of champagne to Nick.

He’d _hated_ leaving. All the girls cried, it took all Louis had not to say fuck it and stay there forever, screw his dad and screw London. But they needed to get back before it became really obvious that, no, they hadn’t actually gone to Manchester like they were saying they were. They stayed as long as they could, but it was inevitable.

As soon as they arrived back home, though, it was clear that something had changed between them. Louis’ crush, that he’d told himself he’d gotten over, was back with a vengeance and the added knowledge of seeing Nick interact with his mum and baby sisters. Louis doesn’t really feel he deserved all that Nick did for him that week, considering Louis’s treated him like shit since they met, and he’s spent the next month or so puzzling over why exactly Nick would be willing to do all that for him. He keeps thinking about what his mum said, about how Nick’s been lying for him, how he’s been so kind. He tries to reason that Nick’s doing it so nothing goes wrong and his family’s business continues to receive the support of Louis’ dad, but there’s something about the way Nick treats him that makes Louis think it’s not the same. It doesn’t feel like that. He doesn’t want to think about what it feels like.

He _can’t_ think about what it feels like, really, because before he knows it, it’s the night before their wedding, and him and Nick are on Nick’s bed, both trying not to panic.

“You know, technically we’re not supposed to see each other before we get married,” Nick says, voice muffled under the pillow he’s pressed over his face. “It’s bad luck.”

“That’s for _real_ weddings,” Louis says, trying not to look at the tuxedo hanging on Nick’s closet door. “And straight people, I think.”

“It can be for gay people too,” Nick says, pulling the pillow off of his head. “Henry says I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Henry’s your best man.”

“I know, that can’t be good.” Louis huffs out a laugh, he slides from where he had been sitting up against the headboard to lay next to Nick. His brain tells him he sort of wants to cling to Nick a little for comfort. He tells his brain to suck a dick.

“Harry just told me not to be late,” Louis says. Nick hums.

“Makes sense,” he says. “you think when this is all over, my friends will forgive me?”

“They better,” Louis responds. “Or I’ll kick their asses.”

“I don’t know if you could kick Aimee’s ass,” Nick muses. “I think she could kick yours.”

Louis thinks about it. “Probably,” he says, “but I’ll hire Liam as my bodyguard.”

“Maybe if he doesn’t work for Harry anymore he’ll get over himself and make a move,” Nick says. They’re silent after that. Nick shifts onto his side so they’re face to face. “We’re going to have to kiss tomorrow,” he says.

“And?” Louis says, picking at the duvet.

“We’ve,” Nick pauses, biting his lip, “we’ve never done that. Even with all the crap we’ve done for the cameras. We’ve never _properly_ kissed before.”

“You literally kiss _everybody_ ,” Louis says accusingly, leveling a glare at Nick’s nose. He can’t quite bring himself to look him in the eyes. “What’s so bad about kissing _me_?”

“Nothing!” Nick whines, “it’s just _weird_ , kissing for the first time in front of a bunch of people we don’t fucking know.”

“Well, do you want to kiss now? Get it over with?” Louis leans up onto an elbow. Once the words are out of his mouth, he can’t stop thinking about it. About kissing Nick in that bed, at that moment. He looks at Nick’s lips, red because he can’t stop biting them.

“I, uh,” Nick says, looking down at the bed. “Um.”

“Forget it,” Louis sighs, dropping roughly onto his back, bouncing a little. Nick turns onto his back and they’re both looking at the ceiling, silent.

“I used to joke,” Nick says, after a long moment. “I would joke about what I wanted at my wedding. On the radio and stuff.”

“What did you say?” Louis asks, still folding his fingers over his stomach.

“Silly things,” Nick scoffs. “I wanted Beyonce to walk me down the aisle, have Lil Kim officiate it.” He turns onto his side again and Louis follows suit. “I said I would show up to my wedding in a giant egg, like Lady Gaga.”

“What the fuck kind of wedding is that?” Louis says. “You’re so weird.”

“They were jokes!” Nick says exasperatedly. “Now,” his voice goes soft, “now it doesn’t matter. Next time I get married it’s going to be what _I_ want.” Louis reaches and grabs one of Nick’s hands, enfolding it in both of his own. He doesn’t know why he holds Nick’s hands sometimes, or why Nick lets him. It feels nice, though. “Seriously,” Nick says, moving his other hand to cover Louis’ and drawing them up, hands tangled between their chests, “if you’ve ever imagined yourself getting married, how did you think it would go?”

Louis shrugs, shuffling closer. “Something small, probably,” he says. “Just family and a couple friends.”

Nick scrunches up his nose. “Nope,” he says, “I have to have a huge wedding. It’s my big day. At least 200 people, in an extravagant hotel.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware we were talking about _your_ dream wedding,” Louis huffs. “Last I checked you said you wanted Beyonce to walk you down the aisle.” Nick laughs. “Anyway, yeah, something small. With Daisy and Phoebe as flower girls.”

“Ernie can be your ring-bearer when he gets big enough,” Nick chimes, and Louis nods.

“I’d just like it to be really calm,” Louis says, “more about having fun than anything. Not so formal, you know? And then we can all go to the pub to celebrate.”

“When I get married, I’m going to have three wardrobe changes, all Louis Vuitton,” Nick says, “and crystal chandeliers. I want people to throw American dollars at us when we leave, make it rain.”

“You’re just being an asshole now,” Louis laughs, disentangling their fingers. He sits up. “I might as well go to bed now, seeing as we have to get up at the fucking crack of dawn.” He makes to get up off the bed and move to his own room when he feels a hand on his wrist.

“Wait,” Nick says, voice small in a way it never is. “Just, can you stay tonight? I’m fucking nervous.” Louis looks down at Nick, who stares back with his eyes wide and a little glassy, and nods, getting up to borrow a pair of too-long pajama pants from Nick’s drawer. He crawls under the covers and scoots closer to Nick than he usually would. Nick sits up to turn off the lamp on his bedside table and Louis moves. He sits up and catches Nick’s face with the palm of his hand, turning his face so he could look into his eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, hasn’t thought this through, but he leans forward, pausing inches away from Nick’s face. He runs his thumb over Nick’s cheek, over the freckles that have faded to nearly nothing, and Nick nods, silently giving Louis permission to finally lean in and press their mouths together.

It’s soft, the most innocent kiss Louis’ had in a long time, but it feels like Louis’ chest is inflating. He moves his mouth against Nick’s and Nick inhales shakily before pressing more firmly against Louis’ mouth. It only lasts another moment, but Louis feels winded, like his heart is caught up in his lungs. They pull away from each other, Louis’ hand still on nick’s cheek, and Nick rests his forehead against Louis’.

“Well,” Louis says, barely above a whisper, “there’s your kiss. Now you won’t have to do it for the first time in front of strangers.” Nick laughs. He moves his hands up to the sides of Louis’ neck and lifts up to kiss Louis on the forehead.

“We should sleep,” he says after that, moving his hands down to Louis’ shoulders and pushing him away slightly. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, feeling something like a lump rising in his throat. “Night,” he croaks, lowering himself down to the bed. Nick follows, turning around so his back is facing Louis. It takes Louis hours to fall asleep.

 

*

 

The wedding is, as Nick predicted, a complete shit show.

For one, Marcel has put him in this _horrible_ tuxedo. It has _tails_. “Is this a wedding or a fucking magic show?” he asked at their suit fitting, ignoring Louis laughing his ass off. He’d glared, eying Louis up in down in his own cream-colored suit. “As if yours is any better,” he snapped.

“No,” Louis said, “I’m sorry, but yours is so much worse.”

On top of that, it’s apparent that Marcel has the _absolute worst_ taste in _everything_. The hall they get married in is industrial and blocky, the overly ornate wedding decorations looking completely out of place. The ceremony takes place under a giant arch made of the worst smelling lilies, and there are honest to god _doves_ everywhere. The whole thing is the biggest production, from the fancy microphone that had been strapped to Nick’s chest beforehand, to the photographer with the biggest lens Nick has ever seen shoving his way between him and Louis during their wedding vows. Everything is so uncomfortably planned that Nick is surprised no one has really caught on to the fact that the relationship isn’t real. When they finally get to the kiss Nick had been dreading so much, all Nick is comfortable doing is a quick peck, something Louis has no problem with, seeing as he’s just as uncomfortable as Nick.

So Nick has to spend the entire night in this fucking thing, after having to stand in front of a sea of rich guests and pledge his undying love to Louis Tomlinson, to promise to take care of him and love him always, all while trying not to squirm.

He’s sure the ceremony wouldn’t have been as bad, had Nick had time to fully figure out what exactly he feels for Louis and decide whether those promises were lies or uncomfortable facts. Since Christmas, Nick’s mind’s been spiralling down a road of _Louis Louis Louis_. He’s the first thing Nick thinks about upon waking and the last thing he thinks of before he goes to sleep. He’s _always there_ , holding Nick’s hand and calling him a donut. He’s in Nick’s mind and in his house and now he’s a constant reminder on the fourth finger of Nick’s left hand.

He’s standing alone outside the hall where their reception is being held, just trying to catch his breath. His suit is dead uncomfortable, and he can’t wait until they can _leave_ and he can _burn it_. He leans over, putting his hands on his knees, thinking he should have brought his puff puff.

“Nick?” he hears from the entrance. He barely stops himself from groaning. Gillian comes around the corner, looking lovely, and he waves half-heartedly. “It’s kind of bad form to leave your own wedding, love,” she says kindly. “Especially when you leave your new husband alone to hold down the fort.”

“I’m not _leaving_ my wedding,” Nick says, “I just needed some air. It’s overwhelming.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that _before_ you married someone you’ve only known for six months,” she says, a little cruelly.

“You shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand, Gels,” he snaps back. He thinks, “screw it” and sits down on the ground. Suit be damned.

“Well, maybe if you _talked to us_ we’d understand,” she says, before joining him on the ground.

“Oh, Gillian, no, your dress,” Nick says miserably, but puts his head on her shoulder anyway.

“You’re going to ruin your fancy hair,” she warns, putting an arm over his shoulders. “Now, really, what’s wrong?”

He bites his lip, tired of lying, of not being able to lean on his friends. “I think I’m in love with my husband,” he says and groans, bringing his hands up over his face.

She raises an eyebrow. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“It is when it’s fake,” Nick says, voice muffled by his hands. She hears him anyway.

“It’s _what?_ ” she says loudly, and Nick quickly shushes her. Then he proceeds to tell her the whole story, voice low so only she can hear if anyone were to try and listen in. She asks a couple questions, but mostly listens, looking increasingly upset. Once he’s done they just sit there, staring down at their shoes. “That _is_ pretty bad,” she concedes. He just nods. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“I don’t know, I thought you’d try and talk me out of it, or you would judge me for it,” he says honestly. “It’s been _killing_ me.”

“It’s definitely not okay,” she says, “for you or for Louis. But have you considered, maybe, that Louis feels the same as you do?”

“I have,” he says, “and then he says something about how we’re only doing something for the publicity, or he talks about what he’s going to do when it’s all over.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a big mess.”

“Yeah,” Gillian says, rubbing his back. “Sorry for being terrible for these last few months.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, “I would have done the same thing.” They don't say anymore, and eventually Louis comes stomping out, looking back and forth and finding Nick.

“And where the hell have _you_ been?” Louis says, putting his hands on his hips. He sees Gillian and straightens, expression guarded. “Thanks for just leaving me in there.” He crosses his arms.

Nick sighs and gets up. “Sorry, was just feeling a little light-headed. I’ll come in now, though.” He offers Gillian a hand up.

“Did you bring your inhaler?” Louis asks tersely, “I _always tell you_ \--”

“I’m _fine_ , Louis,” he says, grabbing Louis’ hand. “Let’s go back inside.” Gillian eyes their hands pointedly, and Nick just rolls his eyes at her before pulling Louis back into the fray.

 

*

 

Once they get passed the nightmare that is their wedding, time passes like a blur for Louis.The days pass like water through his hands, with Louis scrambling to keep ahold of his life.

He’s simultaneously miserable and happy. It’s this weird back and forth where, as soon and he lets himself be happy and enjoy his time with Nick, he remembers that it’s finite and there’s nothing he can do about it.

When Nick returned to their reception, Louis’ father (or rather, Marcel, seeing as Louis’ father had left after the ceremony without even greeting Louis or Nick) surprised them with a honeymoon in the alps. A reward for being so cooperative all these months, and while Louis hated accepting things from his father, he had to admit that it was cool. They spent their days skiing and snowboarding, and their nights hanging out in the swanky cabin Marcel had rented them. Well, Louis had spent the days snowboarding and basically begging Nick to go skiing, only to refuse to go on the beginner slopes and laughing every time Nick fell over.

It was also the first time Louis let himself admit that his crush was a lot more than that, that he actually wanted to be with Nick, rather than just telling everyone that he was with Nick. Over the course of the week they were on their honeymoon, Louis felt himself relax around Nick in a way he never had in the entire time they’d known each other, and they settled into a comfortable routine of _flirting like crazy_.

Maybe it was because they both hadn’t flirted with anyone in so long or the hyper-romantic atmosphere that came along with being on a fucking honeymoon vacation, but Louis was constantly getting the urge to hold Nick’s hand, or lean against him on the ski lift, or wrap an arm around his waist. It didn’t help that Marcel had booked them a place with one bed, so they had to share and Louis was waking up with his limbs tangled up in Nick’s every morning.

And Nick let him, is the thing. He let Louis pull him around by the hand everywhere and he let Louis throw his legs over his lap when they sat in front of the fire. He would pop up behind Louis and drop his chin onto Louis’ head to see what Louis was looking at, and he would throw a blanket over the two of them when they came in from the cold. They still nipped and pecked at each other on a near hourly basis, but they usually did it when they were plastered against each other.

It had died down a little when they returned home, but they’re still pretty touchy. Louis desperately wants them to go back to what they’d been on their honeymoon, and more. He’s about to _explode_ with it.

But they keep dancing around each other, never moving further than cuddling, never talking about what they feel. So he just enjoys what they have. He spends his time fucking around with his friends and bothering Nick, spends his nights secretly listening to Nick’s show and pining. He even goes out with Nick and his friends a couple times, taking every chance he can to have an excuse to act like a real couple, even though all of them except Gillian hate him. He pretends that if he clings to Nick as much as he can, at the end of the six months Nick will just look at him and go, “You know what? Let’s just keep living together and be boyfriend-husbands and do nasty things to each other.”

But Louis has a wild imagination, and instead of Nick confessing his love in an extremely extravagant way, Louis opens his front door one evening in August to see his father staring grimly down at him., Marcel standing timidly behind him with a briefcase.

He wonders if maybe this was his dad’s goal the entire time, that he just likes to loosen his leash on Louis every once in a while, only to yank him back. He did it a few times when he was younger, letting him go home to his mum’s for a while, only to send someone unannounced to bring him back.

When he leaves, Louis considers telling his dad to go fuck himself and just working to make a life for himself, but something tells Louis his dad won’t let him go that easily. That without his dad’s support he literally has nothing. His dad even pays Louis’ half of the rent for Nick’s place. He feels the way he did when he took that drive through the English countryside, when he was always restless and trapped, when he didn’t have anything to lose.

He thinks of Nick, of how he’s only doing this to help his dad, to make his family proud. He thinks of how successful Nick is becoming, with his radio show. He’s living his dream, and Louis doesn’t even have one.

He signs the papers Marcel left on the table and then turns them face down on the table. He would leave, but he’s just realized how thoroughly he’d settled in the house. His pictures are up on its walls, his clothes in its closets. He looks over at the neon sign him and Harry had picked out for Nick’s birthday only a few days prior, proudly displayed. He doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t think he can stay either.

He falls asleep that way, sitting on Nick’s couch and wondering what he should do, and that’s where Nick finds him, hours later. He’s still got his coat on, and a wide smile on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on this couch,” he says, running a hand over Louis’ hair. “But listen, I have good news--”

“Wait,” Louis says, “before you say anything just…” He trails off, biting his lip and gesturing to the table. Nick turns around, puzzled, and when he sees the documents his face falls.

“Are those…?” he asks, voice strained, and Louis nods. He lifts a hand to run it through his hair before bending down to pick them up, eyes skimming over them. His face goes completely blank. “You, uh,” he says, “you signed them.”

Louis shrugs. “Figured I’d get it over with,” he says,crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look at Nick.

Nick clenches his jaw. “And you weren’t going to talk to me about it first?” he says, voice rising. Louis looks up incredulously at him.

“What, did you want me to _ask your permission?_ ” Louis says, “because I wasn’t aware you needed your husband’s permission to fucking divorce him.”

Nick drops down to sit on the floor, still examining the documents. “So you want to?” he says, sounding dejected. “Now? You want to get it over with now?”

Louis doesn’t understand why he seems so upset, considering they’ve known this was going to happen since the beginning. “What’s the difference?” he says loudly, throwing his hands in the air. “It was always going to happen, why not just get it over and done with?”

“No, Louis,” Nick says, running a hand over his face. “Is this _really_ what you want?” He looks up at Louis, eyes pleading. Louis shrinks back, awkward under his gaze.

“Is it,” he gulps, “is it not what _you_ want?” At that Nick’s expression just goes completely disbelieving. He pushes his face in his hands and actually laughs.

“Louis,” he says into his palms, “ _of course_ that’s not what I want.” He drops his hands into his lap and looks back up at Louis. “I’m fucking _in love_ with you.”

Louis’ eyes widen and he feels himself gaping. “Oh,” he says. “I-- _when?”_

Nick rolls his eyes, “When I saw your bare ass ten seconds after meeting you,” he says sarcastically. “Does it matter?” He sets the papers on the floor and moves up to Louis, placing his hands on Louis’ thighs and looking straight up into his eyes from where he still sits on the floor. “Louis, I _love_ you. I don’t want to get divorced.” He looks nervous then, pulling away. “Unless you don’t--”

“No!” Louis yells, grabbing Nick’s hands and forcing him to stay where he is.

“No?” Nick says, face falling, and Louis jumps to correct him.

“No! No I do! Love you,” he says, nervously, squeezing Nick’s hands tightly. “I don’t want to get divorced, I thought _you_ would want to get divorced.”

“Jesus, Louis,” Nick says, awed. “You fucking idiot, how could you not notice how gone I am for you?”

“Shut up,” Louis says, but he’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “I thought it was an act, we act like we’re together all the time.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Nick says, raising an eyebrow. “And why would I still do it when no one else is around?”

Louis feels a bit stupid. “Whatever,” he says, “the point is, now what are we going to do about this? He wants me to come back, and if I don’t he’ll cut me off.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Nick shrugs.“I mean, you’re only looking at the new host of the Radio 1 Breakfast Show.” Louis’ jaw goes slack.

“No,” Louis says, and Nick nods giddily, biting his lip. “Jesus, Nick, that’s amazing!” He slides down to tackle Nick into a hug. “That’s--fuck--that’s so fucking great Nick.”

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, grinning. “No big deal. Only my childhood dream and all that. Only what I’ve been working towards my whole damn life.”

Louis pinches his arm lightly. “Oi, don’t get cocky, Grimshaw,” he says. He feels lighter than air.

“Why shouldn’t I be cocky?” He says, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him close. “Got my dream job, managed to keep my marriage intact, I’m well fit--”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, “can you just fucking get this over with and kiss me?”

“No,” Nick says, “ I still want to talk about _me--_ ” Louis just takes one for the team and kisses him instead, smiling into the kiss, realizing this is what he gets to look forward to whenever he wants. Louis digs his hands in Nick’s hair, wishing it were curly and wondering if he could convince Nick to leave it down more, and he’s really beginning to get into it when Nick pulls away.

“Wait, shit, no Louis stop,” he says when Louis whines and leans back in. “I haven’t had sex in a _year_. We have a _bed_.” They both stare at each other for a moment, and then Louis’ off, socked feet sliding on the floor as they race to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they go. As soon as they’re in the bedroom, Nick pulls Louis to him again, dipping his head down for a kiss, and Louis begins pulling him back to the bed, silently thankful to finally be married his husband.

 

 

 


	2. coda

“Oh my god,” Louis says, bursting into the room Nick was _attempting_ to hide in. “Nicholas,” he says, collapsing into his husband’s lap. “Free me.”

“You’re the best man,” Nick says, not looking away from his phone no matter how wildly Louis squirms. “You deal with it.”

“Harry didn’t do _anything_ when he was my best man,” Louis protests, pouting. “Didn’t even get a stag party, did I?”

“Our wedding was a fucking atrocity,” Nick says, finally shutting his phone off and giving Louis his full attention, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. “Remember the little bubbles?”

“Yeah, what the fuck was that about?” Louis asks, leaning his head on Nick’s shoulder. “Remember your tux?”

“Shut the fuck up, we don’t talk about that,” he says, squeezing Louis’ side. “What’s wrong with Harry?”

Louis sighs, “He won’t stop fucking crying, and the thing hasn’t even started yet. His friend Lou’s trying to put makeup on his eyes so they don’t look so puffy, but he keeps crying it off.”

“Aw, bless. He’s just happy.”

“Well he needs to be _less_ happy,” Louis sighs. “And Zayn and Niall are no help, no one knows where the hell Zayn is and Niall won’t stop flirting with Harry’s sister long enough to do anything. 

Nick groans, pushing Louis gently off his lap and standing up. “Fine, then, don’t know why _I_ should be doing anything, considering I’m not a fucking groomsman…”

“I _told_ you,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “Liam and Harry agreed on two groomsmen and two bridesmaids each.”

“I would have made a _phenomenal_ bridesmaid,” Nick says. “I look _amazing_ in green. I’m even sleeping with the best man.”

Louis huffs out a laugh, checking Nick slightly with his hip. He reaches down to grab Nick’s hand, running his thumb over Nick’s wedding band. “Glad we don’t have to go through this again,” he says as they walk towards Harry’s dressing room, hands swinging between them.

“I don’t know,” Nick says, looking contemplative. “I haven’t given up on Lil Kim.” He waggles his eyebrows at Louis and Louis just laughs.

“Alright,” Nick says, stopping in front of the door. They can hear Harry’s sniffles from the hall. “Let’s go in there and show the soon-to-be newlywed how it goes.” he pushes the door open, gesturing for Louis to go in first, like a proper gentleman.

“Come off it,” Louis says, walking through. “Hey, Harry, just be glad you don’t have this dickhead for a husband. Stop crying and be grateful!”

Nick just smiles and shakes his head, following Louis in and thinking for the millionth time that getting married was the best decision he was ever forced to make.


End file.
